


Libunity adventures

by TooDumbToDie



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Crime Time, Fluff, Happy birthday crap, Helicopter Rides, M/M, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Someone dies, mild misgendering, what did you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooDumbToDie/pseuds/TooDumbToDie
Summary: After Ancap defected from the Centricide crew, Ancom was kicked out by the other statists who wanted to go on their on way. Now Ancom has turned up in Ancapistan.Featuring: two antifash anarchists (one won't stop crying, sorry in advance), crime time, international travel, potentially Ancommune and various other characters including some which died in Centricide 4.
Relationships: Ancom/Ancap, Libunity, Minarchist/Hoppean
Comments: 57
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s pretend Silk Road is still a thing and the founder isn’t in jail also the republican candidate is not trump or anything

**Ancap  
**I admire myself in the mirror. I can’t help it. I look really damn good today. New suit, gold cufflinks, a new watch and new cologne all for the party I was hosting at my house. The CEO of Lockheed Martin, the CEO of McDonald’s, the running republican candidate, the founder of the Silk Road and some Russian illegal arms dealers were all invited so of course, I have to make a damn good impression. 

I straighten my tie and look out the window. Beautiful houses with lush lawns and pools stretch all the way to the horizon. Sure some factories are visible far in the distance, sullying the air for the rest of Ancapistan with foul smoke. But otherwise, it’s a beautiful sight. 

  
  


And then I see a moving black form on my lawn trying to blend in with the dark. It’s a familiar form.  
I rush down the stairs and onto my lawn they spot me and stop moving. A small scraggly figure dressed in full black with sunglasses and a black ski mask. Every identifying feature is obscured.  
They pull their ski mask off and I see Ancom’s familiar face. Worn out, tired and with loads of piercings. Some around their lips, some around their eyebrows.  
“What the fuck are you doing on my private property Ancom?”  
“Private property is cringe bourgeois shit which causes hierarchies plus I thought I might check out your pool.” I cross my arms and scowl at them.  
“Explain yourself or I will call my private police.”  
“So Nazi and Tankie kicked me out after you left so I had to hitchhike here because no one else would want to take me in.”  
“How do you know I want to take you in. Plus why are you dressed like a ninja on my fucking lawn.”  
“Couldn’t talk to you in any other way, the private police wouldn’t let me on your property plus its not ninja gear. It’s Black bloc gear. So can I crash on your couch for the night?” they say sheepishly.  
“Either you pay or you get the fuck off my private property.” I sigh.  
“Please, please, please you know I don’t have any money.”  
“You have kidneys,” I say firmly.  
“Please Ancap? I’d probably die when winter comes. Think about something that's not money for just this one time.” their voice becomes desperate. My brain is telling me this is a horrible idea but something in my cold, gold heart wins. Feelings? Empathy? Both? I don’t know and I don’t particularly care.  
“Fine but only if you pay me back. I accept payment in bitcoin, gold or organs.”  
  
  
  
They’re standing in my study. I briefed them on tonight and their instructions were as following:  
1) don’t leave your damn room  
2) do not involve yourself in the damn party  
3) don’t smoke anything in my house  
They didn’t really listen, they eye up my antique vase and my bookshelf. Ancom runs their finger across the spines of my books, their nails painted black.  
“Hentai manga, hentai manga and more hentai manga.” they stop.  
“Oh, Stephen King. Finally something normal.” They take the book from the shelf and look at the blurb. Realisation dances across their face.  
“Wait, didn’t he write underage sex scenes. You disgust me you bourgeois pig” and unceremoniously shove the book back. I can’t help but sigh again.  
“Please don’t ruin my books.”  
“Whatever.”  
  
  
  
**Ancom** **  
** He leads me to my new room.  
“It’s across the corridor from mine in case something goes wrong or you need something.”  
He opens the door and gestures I go in first, as I walk past him, his nose crinkles.  
“You smell fucking rancid. Please take a bath.” and then he leaves.  
  
  
  
It’s a clean modern bedroom, white bed with little pillows on it. Large windows for the sun to come through but it’s dark outside. There are two comfy armchairs, a bookshelf filled with random crap and a singular potted plant.  
I toss myself onto the bed and sink in it. It feels like heaven compared to the wet concrete underpasses or the park benches. It must be memory foam or something but I don’t really care.  
Finally somewhere to sleep where I feel safe and comfortable. I can’t help but doze off.  
  
I wake up completely disoriented and panic for a second. I can hear the distant noises of chatter and faint music. I actually follow Ancap’s instructions even though everything in me makes me want to vandalise his house. I am finally close enough to eat the rich and now I can’t even do it or I'll get kicked out again. I’m just so fucking tired.  
  
So I take a bath. It’s a freestanding stone tub in the cool bathroom. The mirror is surrounded by little lights and I can’t help but smile. Something pretty and alright in this late stage capitalist hellscape. I raid the cabinets and there are various shampoos, soaps and other crap. With the help of a mint bath bomb, probably a fortnight’s worth of grime washes off.   
  
I settle in to read my book. Well, Ancap’s Stephen King book but it’s mine now. My head on the pillows and the book in my lap. A few hours pass like this and my stomach starts to growl. I bite the bullet and try to ignore it even though I haven't eaten since this morning. I mean what am I supposed to do? Talk to Ancap and then get kicked out?  
  
After a while, the noises from the party guest stop. The house is dead silent. Guess Ancap’s forgotten about me. I rummage around in my backpack looking for an expired muesli bar or something, my meagre amount of belongings strewn across the floor. But I come up empty-handed.

  
I hear a knock on my door.  
“Come in.”  
In walks Ancap holding a plate an assortment of expensive finger food piled high on it and a half-empty bottle of champagne.  
“Got you some food Ancom.” he sits down at the end of my bed and hands me the plate. I scramble up and grab the plate.  
“The champagne’s also for you.” he takes his hat off and shoves his sunglasses up on the top of his head. This is the first time I've actually seen his eyes since I turned up here. I dig in.  
“The others aren’t going to be happy when they find out you’re here.”  
“What do you mean?” I speak with my mouth full of food.  
“I mean that you were lucky you didn’t run into any of the others like Hoppean for example. You’d have been thrown out of a helicopter.”  
I shrug.  
He kicks off his shoes and lies down on my bed, rocking the plate.  
“Be careful you moron.” but he just laughs.  
“Dude get the fuck off my bed.”  
“It’s my house.”  
“It belongs to whos using it.”  
“Well I'm using it now kitten.” he giggles.  
He’s gone mad.  
“You’re not completely sober are you?”  
“Shut up, I’m just happy. Very sober. Give me the champagne if you’re not going to drink it.” I hand it to him and he takes a very large swig from it. He is definitely not sober.  
“I know you didn’t ask Ancom, but everything went super well. I now have a business trip planned in a month and with the help of some cash, the potential president loves me.” he rolls around on my bed.  
“That’s bribery.”  
“Yes.” he turns to look at me, his eyes sparkling with glee and a self-satisfied grin on his face.  
He just lays there for a minute and then stands up, grabs his shoes and hat.  
“Okay kitten, I'm going to go to sleep. Breakfast at 9am.”  
“Why that bloody early?” I grumble.  
“Trading hours.”  
  
  
  
I sit at one end of Ancap’s long dining table and him at the other. He’s fully dressed in his suit, enjoying his toast absently mindedly. His eyes are glued to his phone. I’m extremely groggy and picking at my food. Oh god, why did I get myself into this mess?  
  
**Ancap** **  
** Ancom looks like a little fish out of water. Greens, reds and black in my white modern dining room. Well, it’s not just the colours but their piercings, their hoodie and messy hair. And I can’t help it but my mind drifts off from my stocks to Ancom and the rest of the Centricide crew. My mother always told me that I'd miss shit after it was over. She meant highschool in that context but I think it also applies to Centricide.  
  
  
  
  
Sure it was shit and a horrible environment. We all have a bone to pick with each other; communists and statists threatening to murder me, having my NAP violated, having my private property stolen. It was pretty horrible while I was still part of the crew but now I just miss it.  
  
Maybe it was living with other people and not being lonely, always being able to guarantee that there was someone else there. Me and Nazi used to fool around with right unity shit. _  
  
_

He recognised a desperately lonely man who needed human contact. Pretended to give me it, but in reality, we only had unfulfilling sex, leaving me feeling even worse then I had before. From miserable by myself to crying by myself. And the worst thing of it all was that he denied that any of the events had ever occurred since he was not a “degenerate” and he felt no remorse at all from the amount of cruelty he had inflicted. In fact, he probably got off to it.  
He had played me like a fiddle. Fascism is one of those ideologies who doesn’t care what it takes over, it can manifest in capitalism, communism, feudalism and so on. And like a parasite, he latched on me so I would help him create the white ethnostate with strong borders of his dreams. And I helped him, driven by the need for someone to need me and care about me. I just wanted to matter to someone so I ignored all the red flags. I was fine with the state and the government as long as he kept fooling around with me. And then he left me in the dust the moment he had what he needed.  
  
  
  
  
“Uh, Ancap?”  
I snap out of my thoughts. I take off my sunglasses and pretend to rub my eyes but in reality, I just want to wipe away the shit that’s pooled up there without Ancom realising I might be a tiny bit upset.  
“What are going to do today?”  
“Watch the stock market, sell some bonds and buy some black market fossils.”  
They crinkle their nose at me.  
“Dude that’s boring. Very unethical and very spooky.”  
I shrug.  
“You suggest something better then.”  
“Just vibe by ourselves, watch some shows, get stoned, smash some shit and write essays on capitalism.”  
“I think I will just stick to my stock market watching, you can join me if you want. Also, my friends will be coming tomorrow in case you’re interested in joining us.” my voice, haughty. They don’t say anything.  
“Also Ancom.”  
“Yea?”  
“We need to get you some new clothes”  
They protest.  
“No. I will not let you buy anything for me.”  
“C’mon, you smell rancid and have barely any clothes.  
“I have enough”  
“List all the clothes you have.”  
“My skirt, my fishnet stockings, my pride socks, my boots, a change of underwear, my black hoodie, my green hoodie, my bandana, sunglasses and my ski mask. That’s all I need.”  
“Clearly not. If you were to take off the clothing you had right now to wash it, you wouldn’t have anything left to wear. Send me the amazon links via text and i’ll buy them.”  
“Amazon is UNETHICAL plus I refuse to cross the picket line.”  
“Yeah, so what? You’re fine with living in my house but if I offer to buy you crap so that you don’t reek like cat litter, that’s a bad thing?” I can see them clench their fist.  
“ONE IT’S FINE BECAUSE IT’S “““““““““YOUR PRIVATE PROPERTY”””””” AND TWO BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO SPEND ANOTHER FUCKING NIGHT ON THE STREETS. Y'KNOW HOW MUCH PRIDE I HAD TO SWALLOW JUST SO I CAN SLEEP SOMEWHERE FUCKING DRY? DO YOU? BEFORE CENTRICIDE I SENT TWO YEARS ON THE FUCKING STREET AND SQUATTING. EATING OUT OF BINS BEHIND SUPERMARKETS AND SHOPLIFTING ANCAP, KNOWING THAT IF I CATCH SOMETHING THAT I’LL PROBABLY JUST DIE SICK ON THE STREETS AND NO ONE WOULD CARE. JUST ANOTHER FUCKING HOBO. GOOD RIDDANCE. OR I’LL GET ARRESTED AND STUCK IN JAIL AND ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO FUCKING EAT. AND IT’S PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS SHIT. YOU ONLY HAVE YOUR MONEY BECAUSE YOU DO TO PEOPLE WHAT I GO THROUGH. YOU TELL PEOPLE THEY’RE BROKEN SO THAT THEY BUY YOUR PRODUCTS. YOU TURN THEIR LIVES INTO SLAVERY AND FOR WHAT? A NEW FUCKING CAR.” their pretty features contorting with rage.  
  
  
They keep screaming at me, I can’t get a single word in so I just sit there and watch them. They spend no time breathing, words just pool out of the flood gate.  
It reaches its climax, tears start pooling up in their pretty green eyes and running down their cheeks but they keep yelling and yelling. Slowly they start running out of steam, their hands in their face and the elbows on the table. Their tears hit the empty plate and their toast.  
Something shatters in my heart. I walk over to their end of the table and try to give them a hug side on but they just shy away.  
“Please Ancom?” I’m about to cry myself, my voice quivering.  
“Don’t fucking touch me you capitalist pig.” they stand up and leave. The door slams shut behind them.  
  
  
  
I find them later in their room. I tried to watch the stock market but my mind kept wandering to Ancom and breakfast. So pull myself together and knock on the door.  
“Please go away Ancap.”  
I gulp nervously.  
“I came to apologise.”  
“Okay.” their voice, emotionless. I take that as permission to enter so I open the door. They’re bowed over on their bed with my book in their hands.  
I look at them and they look at me, their back straightening.  
“I don’t know what to say apart from 'I'm sorry’. And if you’re angry, I understand that. I shouldn’t have shamed you for something out of your control and that's not your fault. Well, I shouldn’t have shamed you either way.”  
“Thank you Ancap. Also sorry for having a massive outburst. It was building up and I just snapped.”  
“I mean it makes sense, you hate capitalism so Ancapistan is probably your worst nightmare.”  
“I mean me hating Ancapistan isn’t an excuse for being a dick. But yes I hate Ancapistan and I’m here because I have nowhere else to go”  
I extend my hand as a peace offering.  
“Thrift shop?”  
They reach out their hand and we shake.  
“I can work with that.”  
  


  
The door rings as we walk in. It smells musty. Old chairs, tatty books and ceramics line shelves in the dimly lit room. If I had a say in this, I’d have thrown all of this garbage out. I feel very out of my depth. Ancom instantly locates the clothes and makes a beeline for them.  
They come back with a garish maxi skirt, an old faded company t-shirt and some chunky hoop earrings from the 80s.  
“That’s not enough.” I join them and start rummaging through the clothes which have been helpfully arranged by colour. I admit I do feel a bit disgusted touching things which have been owned by others and/or poor people. But I do manage to find a pair of sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt and a yellow crop top which I know they’d probably like.  
“I assume no men’s clothing?”  
“Yeah. Well, clothing has no gender since that's a spook and so is masculinity and femininity. But when I wear men’s clothing people think I’m a man. When I wear women’s clothing, people think I’m a gender fuck.”  
“I have no clue what that means but I can work with that.”

They’re looking through the shoes, most pairs are either too small or too large. I give them a nudge and point at a pair of light blue crocs.  
“Try them on Ancom”  
They slip their feet into them and post theatrically for me, a grin plastered on their face. I clap for them.  
“How fashionable.”  
  
  
I hand them the things I found.  
“Try these on.”  
“They look like shit.”  
“You’re only saying that because I recommended them.”  
“Yes” they smirk and I, in turn, roll my eyes at them, forgetting I'm wearing sunglasses.  
“Ancap, you wouldn’t know drip if you saw the ice caps melting in front of you.”  
“What does that mean? Can you speak normally?”  
“You’re literally my age but I’m convinced you’re a boomer.”  
“Well, at least I can dress myself.”  
“You know damn well I can dress myself”  
I find a tartan skirt which comes halfway up the thigh.  
“You’d look good in that Ancom.” I hold it up. They snatch it from my hands.  
“Fucking pervert.” They laugh and we end up buying it anyway.  
  
  
**Ancom** **  
** Ancap invites his friends into the lounge, three of them shuffle in. One in a top hat, another man in a dark blue coat and a hunched over dishevelled man.  
The white leather sofas are arranged in a square with a table right in the middle of them. It’s large, square and completely made out of glass. If you’re not paying attention, you forget it’s there. Well, two of his friends sit down on the sofa opposite me and the other one on the right. I keep crossing my legs and uncrossing them under the tartan skirt. Ancap was right, I do look good in it.  
“Whisky anyone?” Ancap waltzes back from the kitchen with some glasses and a bottle of whisky.  
The man in the top hat is the only one that accepts. Ancap pours himself a generous glass and then pours me some even though I didn’t ask but I don’t particularly mind.  
“So who’s the new misses, they’re a bit older than the others.” says the man in the top hat, his accent southern. Ancap sits down next to me confidently.  
“For the millionth time, I’m not into children. But this Ancom and we’re only friends.” he gives them all a dazzling grin but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  
“I thought I smelt a degenerate fucking commie.” mutters the dishevelled man.  
“You can’t smell communists,” says the more friendly-looking guy in the coat.  
“You bet I can smell communists. I can also smell coloured people, chinks and other inferior IQ races.”  
I don’t have anything witty to say in return so I just hold my whisky glass, both my hands cupped around it. The anger which is starting to bubble up mixes with my anxiety, a potent mix.  
  
“Well Ancom, these are my friends: Libertarian, Minarchist and Hoppean.” I can’t help but cringe.  
“Howdy Commie.” He stands up to go and shake my hand, he holds it out but I don’t accept it.  
“I’m sorry but I don’t like capitalists,” I state matter-of-factly.  
Hoppean points at me.  
“Better dead than red.” and shoots daggers at me.  
“No, no, no they’re a good communist. They’re not a statist.” Ancap’s voice is honeyed as he tries to placate the others. He puts his arm around me.  
“See, completely harmless.” I chew on my lip, all of their eyes are on me and Ancap’s arms around my waist. The arm part doesn’t bother me but I've had it. I stand up.  
“I will Molotov you all” I announce and stand up.  
“Especially you Hoppean” and point one painted finger at him.  
  
  
He stands up slowly and menacingly makes his way towards me, the glass table between us.  
“Degenerate commie”  
“Bourgeois pig. Watch it or I’ll fucking guillotine you and then you’ll really be dead instead of red.” I slice my finger across my throat.  
“Woah, woah, no need to get angry. You’d be violating the NAP if you break anything” Ancap tries to get in between as best as he can with the table in the way. Even more revolutionary anger wells up, it’s cold but dangerous and firey. Like a dried ice burn.  
“Fuck you Ancap, stop defending the degenerate.”  
“The NAP is a load of shit you chud. I will kick all of your guy’s fucking asses.”  
“C’mon darling sit down please.” he purrs condescendingly, leading me back to the couch while Libertarian gets Hoppean to sit down. I am ready to throttle him.  
“The next person to start a fight gets kicked out.” he glares at the two of us.  
  
  
  
  
  
The moment the others leave he loosens his tie and puts his face in his hands, his fingers splayed out covering every inch of it. I’m still just sitting awkwardly next to him.  
“I’m really sorry about that, Ancom.”  
“You’re a dick.”  
“Yeah, I’m sorry for that. But also for them just generally being weird about you and calling you my misses. You didn’t consent to that.”  
“You literally put your arm around me. You were contributing to the weirdness.”  
“Yeah I was.” he pours himself another drink.  
“Uh Ancap, do you have any supplies for Molotov’s?”  
“Yeah yeah whatever, in the kitchen,” he says, his voice laden with guilt. I’m surprised that even worked.  
  
  
  
  
**Ancap** **  
** They march past me.  
“Wait where’s the kitchen?” they turn around.  
“Down the hallway and the first door on the right,” I speak into my hands. They disappear.  
I finish my drink and head back to my desk to watch my shares.  
I fall asleep at the computer, dreaming of nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also sorry in advance and in post since I can't do emotions atm. I am very emotionally burnt out or something. So I feel like a robot pretending to be a human. So some of the writing will be wack


	2. The DMToad - Chapter Two

**Ancom  
** He drifts into my room.  
“Hey Ancom, can you do a favour for me?”  
“Depends.”  
“Can you give me a hug, of course, I’ll pay you.” his usually smug grin shifts to unsure.  
“I won’t take the money but sure.”  
  
I stand up and walk over to him and wrap my arms around him. He’s stiff, tense and taller than me. But he relaxes a bit. The smell of his spicy cologne envelopes me and we just stand there.  
When I release him, his cheeks are slightly damp. He opens his wallet and gives me a 20 dollar note, I don’t accept it.  
“Take it, you’re meant to stimulate the economy?” he places it on the nearest surface which happens to be my bed.  
“You alright Ancap?”  
“I’m fine.” his voice shakes a bit. **  
** “Okay thank you but I have to call someone now.” and he leaves quickly. I don’t really understand what’s going on.  
“Wait!” I yell down the hallway. He turns around.  
“What?”  
“Do you wanna do LSD later?”  
“Yeah sure.” and then he stalks off.  
  
  
  
  
He finds me later that night.  
“Ancom? I have the LSD. Let’s go.”  
He leads me to the basement. It’s pretty nice with a carpeted floor which is unusual compared to the basements I’ve been in. He opens the door to a room. I assume it’s his entertainment room since it has a large TV, a shelf with videogames, two couches with only one arm orientated to the aforementioned TV.  
He makes himself comfy on one of them, taking off his hat and sunglasses. They get placed on the table next to a glass vase.  
“I’m surprised you don’t have a freaky sex dungeon. I mean your house is so big and with so many rooms. Also, rich people are fucking weird.” I drift off to look at his video game selection. He says nothing.  
“Does that mean you have a freaky sex dungeon?” he still doesn’t say anything.  
“Um, Ancom can we play Super Smash Bros?”  
“Sure. Where is it?”  
“They’re all organised alphabetically.”  
  
  
I get comfy on the other couch. I feel like I'm a roman emperor or empress or whatever, reclining at a feast but instead, I’m just going to play Smash Bros while tripping.  
He hands me the controller.  
  
  
“This is just 50 shades of grey.” we cringe in unison at my cursed thought.  
“I hate 50 shades.”  
“Me too, it romanticizes abusive relationships. But a millionaire with sex dungeon...”  
He puts his hands up in a sign of surrender.  
“I never said I had a sex dungeon.”  
“Well, you didn’t deny it. Since you’re a weird rich guy, have you ever been to an orgy?”  
“What the hell.” he sputters but quickly composes himself. I laugh at him and his neck starts to go red from embarrassment.  
“Stop laughing at me and I refuse to answer any questions about my sex life.”  
“Okay virgin incel.”  
“Stop it Ancom. Here’s the acid.” his voice back to his infuriatingly smug cadence.  
  
  
  
All the hallmarks of an LSD trip arrive. Like a dream, my mind descends and time disappears. Kirby becomes more pink, powerful and vivid then they’d ever be in real life. The coffee table and various other items start to warp when I look at them, breathing and pulsing as if they were alive. Inwards and outwards. Inwards and outwards. The game is forgotten, neither me nor Ancap bother continuing to play.  
During it all, Ancap stands up to go somewhere. I don’t know where but in his wake, translucent trails are left behind. It’s mesmerising. Like a cursor on an old laggy computer.  
Otherwise, it’s completely indescribable. I once heard someone else describe it as ‘cosmic schmaltz’, strong and overwhelming. Every one of my nerve endings going crazy. I feel like I can’t ever snap out of this but yet I do. Slowly the sensations fade and I feel myself come back to the ground. Exhausted I fall asleep on the sofa.  
I awake in my bed.  
  
  
  
It’s another breakfast like every other. Ancap is glued to his phone yet again.  
“Hey Ancap, you know there's a toad. And if you lick it’s back, you trip balls since you’re ingested a small amount of poison or DMT or some shit.”  
“Uh-huh what’s it called?” he says, not looking up from his phone.  
“Colorado River toad or something.” he types something quickly.  
Only then does he look up at me.  
“Found a site selling them.”  
“What the hell Ancap. You can’t just buy a toad just to get high.”  
“I mean I literally can. The free market has decided that I should be able to buy a toad. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with basic economics” his voice dripping with condescension.  
“Shut up with you and your free market worship. I thought we were friends. Why are you being a dick.”  
“When did I say we were friends?”  
I can feel my blood starting to boil. I stand up.  
“Fuck you Ancap.” and flip him the finger. He glares at me.  
“I ordered the toad. It’ll be arriving in two days” he states.  
“You’re vile and you don’t even know how to look after a bloody toad. Do you even know what fucking empathy is?”  
“Ancom you can’t say that?” his voice sounds wounded like he got hit in the gut.  
“I can say whatever I want statist.”  
I stomp off. I don’t want to fucking deal with this shit at the moment.  
  
  
  
  
I drift through the house for maybe twenty minutes looking for a computer. When I find one, I boot it up. It’s an old machine, still running on Windows 7. I’m surprised that Ancap hasn’t thrown it out but I don’t complain. Luckily it doesn’t ask for a password so I start browsing. After two hours of YouTube videos and random articles dredged from the depth of Google, I have a list of items we’ll be needing. Like a shopping list but for a toad. Crammed on a scrap of paper, are my notes and some carefully copied out eBay links. I hate eBay but I'm doing it for the toad who’s life is in our hands now. Harm reduction and all.  
  
  
  
I hunt him down and chuck my notes on his desk.  
“Here.” he looks at it.  
“What’s this for Ancom?”  
“Shit for the toad.”  
“Oh. I was planning on giving it to the SPCA.” he looks up at me and then back down to the notes.  
“Okay. This all seems reasonable actually.”  
“ _Actually?_ ” my voice rising slightly in cadence.  
“Calm down. I’ll buy the stuff. How hard is it to look after a toad anyway?”  
  
  
  
The toad turns up 3 days later. Turns out it was a bit more complicated than I thought it was. But with the help of YouTube, we manage to set up a decent little home for the toad.  
We start with the eco soil. I pour it into the base of the old fish tank while Ancap watches, looking over my shoulder.  
“Make sure you get it all even.”  
“Yeah, yeah we can always flatten it or whatever Ancap. Redistribute it.”  
“Shut up.”  
I try and mimic his smug grin to the best of my ability in response.  
He picks up a half log with the tips of his fingers and looks at it.  
“Are you scared of touching the log?”  
“I’m not used to it. Why would I be scared of a log? I just don’t want to get my fingers dirty.”  
“Sure.”  
“Also Ancom?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Concerning you mentioning that you thought we were friends. It would make your little stay a bit nicer for the both of us if we maybe form a truce or at least enter into an agreement which stops conflict.” he places the log carefully into the tank.  
“Okay sure. I guess we can do that.”  
“Fantastic. I can write up the paperwork.”  
“Paperwork?”  
“Yes, you heard right.”  
I pick up the toad with two hands, it’s large and khaki green. I place it in the tank. I can feel the toad juice on my hands but don't bother wiping it off just yet.  
“That’s stupid. We can just shake on it.”  
“You’re wrong.”  
  
  
  
“Welcome to your new home,” I say to the toad, he just sits there. His large bulbous yellow eyes flicker around, observing his surroundings. 

  
  
Ancap holds out his hand and we shake on it. His face crinkles in disgust and he holds up his hand. Toad secretions. I can’t help but laugh. There’s something hilarious about the combination of toad juice and his disgusted expression.  
He licks his hand.  
“Interesting.” he gives me a genuine smile, none of that smug condescending crap. And we both laugh together.

  
  
  
**Ancap**  
Once the toad has been homed, Ancom leaves. I feel them brush up against my arm as they walk by, dangerously violating my personal space.  
“Ancom?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Even though you asked me some really weird invasive shit, we should get high again. It was a decent time.”  
“Sure.” something in my heart does a little somersault.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Minarchist calls me. I pick up.  
“Hey Ancap, wanna go and get pissed?”  
  
I walk into the bar, my friends turn to look at me. Hoppean is hunched over muttering to himself, Libertarian is sipping on something while Minarchist animatedly talks.  
I sit down.  
“Hello, guys.”  
“Howdy” replies Libertarian. The rest are all silent until Minarchist pipes up.  
“Ancap we all love you but you can’t have another ideology living in your house.”  
“Especially a communist ideology with powerful allies,” adds Libertarian.  
“Ancap, throw the fucking degenerate out of your helicopter while you still can.”  
“I don’t don’t understand what you’re worried about, they’re harmless.” I scoff. I know it’s a lie.  
  
“Ancap let's be real about this. We all know what's going on. You have unrequited feelings for him or them or whatever. You’ve had them for a long bloody time, we all know that. We’re not blind. But they’re going to be a Trojan horse. They probably still have ties with the Commie. You are deluding yourself and we’re all worried. Worried about you and the future of Ancapistan” states Minarchist, the beer coaster in his hand is being tapped on the table anxiously.  
“Zero ties with Commie and I can promise that. They came to my house since the statists had kicked them out. They’re an anarchist just like us.”  
“Get rid of the fucking soycuck or I’ll do it for you.” blood lust wells up in his eyes.  
“Shut up all of you. Look at it like this, it’s better to have them under our noses where they can’t cause shit rather than hanging out with Commie or Nazi or whatever. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” I feel a pang of guilt for talking about Ancom like that. But on the flip side, I can’t have the situation spiralling out of control.  
  
“We want a meeting with the communist,” states Libertarian.  
“Okay. I came here to have fun, not to get grilled. But I can try my best to arrange that.”  
I leave without even ordering a drink, my evening ruined.  
  
  
  
  
The next day my friends turn up again. I made sure to tell Ancom that I wasn’t going to let my friends walk all over them. They just told me they could bloody handle them by themselves. Too proud to accept help but I understand that.  
Libertarian gets right down to business.  
“Why are you in Ancapistan? Are you here for Commie? Are you planning the downfall of Ancapistan from the inside?”  
“Um I was kinda sick and tired of being homeless.”  
Hoppean’s eyes narrow, scanning their face for anything which might be giving them away.  
“He’s lying. Minarchist start up the helicopter.”  
“It’s they/them and I’m not trying to do anything you fucking crypto-fascists. Do you know how much fucking pride I had to swallow just to start making my way to Ancapistan let alone live in this LSC shithole? Do you need me to fucking swear on the bread book or something that I won’t cause any fucking shit? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME?” they’re bristling like a hissing black cat I had seen many times on stickers and posters.  
  
“That actually sounds like a good idea.” Minarchist stands up and finds my copy of Ayn Rand and places it in front of Ancom. They unclench their fist and carefully place their right hand on the battered paperback.  
“This is so fucking spooked.”  
“Okay Commie, repeat after me. I swear on Ayn Rand and my life that I’m not a Trojan horse and that I am not working to backstab the very cool Libertarian Rights. I am not working with the statists either.”  
“I swear on Ayn Rand’s trash book and my life that I’m not a bloody Trojan horse. I won’t backstab you guys even though you are all vile capitalist pigs who deserve it. I am not working with the statists either.”  
“Fantastic welcome to the crew.”  
Minarchist steps towards Ancom with a smile on his face and his arms out, ready to hug them. As expected, it doesn’t work.  
“Don’t fucking touch me.” they snarl at him and he backs off.   
“Okay thank you for coming, it’s all wrapped up. Please leave.” I say in attempt to get them out of my hair and deescalate the situation.  
But I manage to get them out of the house quick enough.  
  
  
  
I find Ancom after kicking them all out. They run their fingers through their short hair.  
“Fuck it, I need some pot.”  
“God me too.”  
  
  
The LSD kickstarted something. For the next three weeks, I play games or watch crap with them after trading hours. With copious amounts of drugs mixed in of course. We get a little routine going and I'm genuinely grateful for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With my last fic, I was pretty much updating daily and I don't think I can sustain that since uni is starting again for me soon + my mental health has been kinda poop recently. I have a scuffed essay about Biometrics to write so I'm very sorry if chapter was incoherent 
> 
> But it will 100% be regular updates. No work left unfinished :)
> 
> Plus I've already written majority of the upcoming chapters and shit so
> 
> Also they'll be less fighting and less being a dick in the next chapter


	3. London - Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gay, do drugs, do crime

He pokes his head into my door.  
“Ancom, I know you’re probably going stir crazy so would you like to join me on my business trip?” he steps fully into my room, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He looks at me unsure. He’s right though, a month of doing nothing gets boring quickly. A whole month of light touching, the occasional ‘kitten’ and looks all disappearing into a drugged up haze. Not that I mind of course. But I do mind that everything is relatively uneventful.  
“Where to?”  
“Three-day convention in London and then to Russia and Frankfurt.”  
“International travel is bad for the environment but I guess it’s less worse since 747s aren’t small. Book the tickets.”  
“Haha, I don’t have to book any tickets. I’m not poor.”  
I shoot him a glare, but he’s already disappeared.  
  
  
He loads my suitcase (which I borrowed from him) into the back of his bright yellow SUV. I’m 98% sure it’s a Lamborghini. We drive to Ancapistan’s airport. I stare out the window and watch everything go by. Stinking factories belching out fumes, tiny apartments decaying and graffitied walls. All signs of urban decay and they remind me of the Lorax. The familiar feeling of revolutionary anger wells up and starts simmering just waiting for something to happen.  
  
Ancapistan’s airport is relatively small compared to other international airports. A few runways, many hangars filled with planes, most of them belonging to the rich and wealthy and a decently sized building for things like arrivals and departures.  
  
We walk inside, it’s just a large warehouse that got converted to have some seating areas and a few counters, patrolled by private police. We get our luggage weighed but the lady gives it all back to us, she then leads us onto the runway. We break free from her, Ancap knowing exactly where he’s going. Our suitcases bumping on the tarmac.  
“I called ahead so we’re ready to take off as soon as we get inside.” and makes his way to a white plane with the Anarcho-Capitalist flag on its tail. It has stairs leading up to the open door. Not the type used for commercial jets but one built into the plane which resembles an attic ladder in how they slide out.  
Ancap picks up his two suitcases and walks up the narrow stairs and I follow suit.  
“Make yourself comfortable Ancom.” he gestures at the comfortable and wide leather chairs. There’s even a sofa with seat belts on it. I choose a chair at random.  
“Here let me take that kitten.” he grabs my suitcase.  
“I can do it myself.”  
“I know, I'm not Commie. I’m just trying to be polite.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I smile apologetically at him and he smiles back.  
He stows away my luggage. He knocks on the cockpit door.  
“We’re ready to go.” and then sits down opposite me.  
“What a gentleman. Also, I’m surprised they didn’t do any immigration stuff like stamp my passport or whatever. Or security checks.”  
“Haha it’s Ancapistan, we’re not filthy statists. We don’t need regulations.”  
“I like that about Ancapistan even though I fucking hate it here. No borders, people can come and go as they please.”  
“Providing they pay the toll of course.”  
  
  
  
  
  
We’re 30 minutes from descent. He grabs a salt shaker out of the mini-fridge and lets it sit in his cup holder for a few minutes. I look at him weirdly.  
“I’m trying to cool it down.”  
A few minutes later he grabs it and walks to the bathroom.  
“What the hell Ancap?”  
“Cocaine” I hear his voice from the bathroom. I walk in and he’s making a line on the counter with his credit card.  
“Want some?”  
“Sure.” I take the salt shaker.  
“Consider it a gift.”  
“This is the first time you’ve ever offered me something free of charge apart from the clothes.” he just shrugs.  
I grab his credit card and follow suit.  
  
  
  
**  
**  
I stand in front of the middle-aged man at immigrations.  
“Mr Domitrovich?” he raises his eyebrow at me. Dysphoria crawls back to the surface of my mind, no longer lingering subconsciously. I clench my hands, my nails digging into my palms.  
“You Russian? My daughter-in-law is Russian, she’s from Novosibirsk and she always sends us this chocolate bar with a child in a headscarf on the packaging, what’s it called again?.”  
“My parents are Ukrainian immigrants actually and I don’t remember.”  
“Ah, that’s nice also a happy upcoming birthday sir.”  
“They disowned me.”  
“Oh,” he says awkwardly and holds my passport up to compare it to my face. I smile awkwardly in return. Time disappears as if I’m tripping on LSD again and it seems to drag on forever. But this time it’s not a good experience. I feel like I’m being x-rayed without my permission and being cruelly reminded of something I've tried my best to forget. Usually, I have a bubble around me and in this bubble, I am only what I identify as. And I feel secure and confident. And then something or someone pokes the bubble, bursting it and reminding me of what others think of me and who I am. Reminding me that in their eyes, I’ll always be a fucking man and that I’ll never be able to escape from it. I’m trapped.  
  
But Ancap doesn’t even blink an eye.  
“It’s obviously them, I have places to be and a strict time schedule. Chop chop.” his voice honeyed. He leans onto the counter and glares the man down over the top of his sunglasses.  
“Alright,” the man looks at him and then stamps my passport and hands it back to me. Ancap leads me through, past the counter and out of immigrations.  
When we get out of earshot, I thank him.  
“Thank you for saving me from that crap.”  
“No need to thank me, kitten.” he purrs but this time it’s not condescending.  
“At least it’s not the TSA I guess.” he nods in response.  
“Also Ancom, when exactly is your birthday?”  
I tell him and he nods.  
  
  
  
We manage to get through arrivals, our bags scanned and so on. It’s a long tedious nightmare and then we’re finally free.  
“You got a driver? A rental car? Or are we going to find a taxi?”  
“Taxi.”  
There’s a pack of taxis waiting once we get out, hovering like seagulls. Trying to gobble up passengers like chips. We manage to get one. Ancap gives me the address of the hotel on a scrap of paper and I read it to the driver while he loads our bags.  
  
He climbs in and then we’re on our way.  
“Right now I just want to sleep off the jet lag. Also, are you coming to the convention or not?”  
“What’s it about?”  
“The wonders of free-market capitalism.”  
“I think I’m fine.”  
“Also do you want to go to a nightclub or something tonight and get trashed?”  
“Sounds like a plan.”  
  
  
  
  
Later that night, we snake our way through the dark streets, looking for a good club. Ancap spots a man with a fanny pack. Cash is quickly exchanged for two baggies filled with powder, one white and the other is slightly off-white.  
  
  
  
We manage to get into a club. Ancap drags me to their bathrooms, his hand on my wrist.  
But I stop short outside of the bathrooms, one of my hands go to fidget with my hoodie strings. Ancap quickly figures out what’s going on.  
“Don’t worry about it Ancom, no one thinks you’re a man. They’ll just think you’re with me. Women probably go in here all the time.”  
“But that's different. Yeah okay. Alright.” but I’m still worried about it.  
Ancap marches to the sinks. The bathrooms are nasty and vile. Piss puddles, stray toilet paper and it fucking reeks.  
“Ancom do you have a pocket knife or something?”  
“No?”  
He digs out one of his credit cards and scoops up some of the powder with it. He inspects it and then shows it to me.  
“Ancom? You think this is safe.”  
It’s a white crystalline powder, glimmering slightly under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. I inspect it.  
“Wait, what is it?”  
“MDMA. The other baggie is cocaine.”  
“Yeah, then that looks about right. I mean we don’t have a test kit so there’s no way to be sure”  
“Good enough for me kitten.”  
And then he takes it back and starts fashioning a line.  
  
  
  
  
I feel it kick in and then I drag him into the throng of people, my arm around his waist. Loud music that mesmerises me and the neon colours grow even more vibrant. I feel completely in my element. He just stands pressed up against due to the masses while I dance.  
“Ancap absolute moron, you can’t bloody dance,” I yell so he can hear me. He just laughs.  
“C’mon, it’s not scary.”  
He tries his best, it’s really awkward, like a nerdy awkward school kid at a school event awkward.  
“Fucking legend.” I say. And he laughs. I don't hear it due to the loud music but pure euphoria is plastered across his face.  
I pop some gum to stop myself from grinding my teeth and then I drag him even further into the crowd of people. He’s completely out of his element.  
“Ancap you moron, just drape your arms around me or something.” he doesn't do that but instead he puts his hands on my hips. As I move, my hoodie rises up and I feel his finger brush up against my bare skin. And honestly, I can’t fucking get enough of it.  
“That works too.” and I laugh.  
As we keep dancing badly, his hand starts to creep further up under my hoodie. Searing hot but in a perfect way, completely intoxicating.  
  
  
  
  
As we leave, I have the insane thought to reach for his hand. He lets me and something flutters inside of me.  
When we get back to the hotel, we try to crash into his bed but we’re both wide awake. Ancap’s fidgeting like mad, toying with his tie but we’re both coming down.  
“Hey kitten.” he looks at me, his pupils dilated.  
“Hmh?”  
“Please go to the convention with me? Watch me speak please?” his hand leaves his tie and reaches into my hair.  
“Sure.”  
“Your hair is so soft” he looks at me, his eyes filled with wonder and pure unadulterated joy. He starts to fidget with my hair. Out of the blue, he gives me a kiss on the forehead. I just grin back at him and return the favour, my lips linger on his soft skin. He reaches his hand out and pats my cheek.  
We doze off as we come down, still fully dressed.  
  
  
  
  
His alarm goes off at eight in the morning.  
“Rise and shine kitten. We have a convention to go to.” I don’t think he’s hungover since he’s managed to pull himself together, dressed in a clean suit. But I feel completely empty. My muscles are very tense and I feel like I might cry.  
“I can’t go, I feel like genuine dogshit. But you look very snappy.”  
“Yeah I know.” he gives me that damn smug smile and then sniffles.  
“Also concerning not going, that’s alright you’re not going to miss anything plus I’m speaking tomorrow not today.” he walks over to me and pulls me into a hug.  
“I have to go. Don’t have too much fun without me.”  
I crawl back into his bed to sleep off the hangover.  
  
  
  
  
**Ancap** **  
** I unlock the hotel door, Ancom is still in my bed sleeping peacefully. I walk to my suitcase and try not to wake them. But it doesn’t work.  
“Ancap?” their voice heavy with sleep.  
“I’m back and I got you free shit,” I announce.  
“What did you get?”  
“A fridge magnet, a drink bottle and two notepads.”  
“Put them in my suitcase.”  
“I can’t. I don’t have the keycard for your room.”  
“Hrm, whatever, I'll do it later.” they sit up and rub their eyes.  
“By the way kitten, if you’re going to the convention, we’ll have to get you something decent to wear.” they give me the finger. But they’re not angry at me so I flop on the bed next to them.  
“You can’t go to a formal event in a hoodie and a skirt.”  
“Yeah, I can.”  
“C’mon we can go and get you a pretty dress or something.”  
“I’m not accepting gifts from you Ancap.”  
“You literally did multiple times.”  
“That was free shit or shit from thrift stores or drugs.”  
“Just a dress or whatever you want and a pair of shoes?”  
“Why does everything have to turn into a shopping trip?”  
“The clothes you wear do suit you normally but there is no way you can wear a hoodie to a convention.”  
“Yeah alright. I surrender.” they hold their hands up in mock surrender, a grin dancing across their face.   
“Good.”  
  
  
  
**Ancom  
** He takes me to a high street department store, against all of my protests.  
“We should have gone to a thrift shop. Sometimes you get lucky and find someone’s prom dress or something.”  
“Y’know it could be way worse Ancom. We could have gone to Channel or Gucci instead we’re going to a nice upper-middle-class place. Look, they don’t even have security guards outside the store.”  
It’s still extremely flashy and expensive. I start browsing, checking price tags and colours.  
“What size are you again Ancom?”  
“I don’t kn-” he cuts me off.  
“Nevermind, I figured it out.” and starts rummaging through the various racks. I don’t find anything I like but he does. He comes back with some crap draped over his arm. He hands them to me.  
“I only found three so we can be in and out of here for your sake.”  
It’s three dresses, all in black but just varying styles and lengths.  
“Why the black?”  
“Colour coordination, you’re an ‘anarchist’ and it suits you.”  
“If anyone’s not the real anarchist it's you.”  
“Oh no, no. I’m the real anarchist, kitten, not you.”  
  
  
  
He makes me try them all on and mills around outside the changing room. I try on the first dress, it’s relatively short and summery.  
I step outside.  
“Ancap, you’re not a real anarchist since capitalism is a hierarchy.”  
“Turn around.” I turn around and give it a twirl.  
“Yeah, that one looks good.”  
“It kinda sucks.”  
"Okay then not that one.”  
  
  
It resumes when I step out in the second dress.  
“It looks lovely but you’re not the real anarchist since you try to take away people’s private property and that’s really authoritarian.”  
“It’s called a revolution dumbass. Plus this one is actually alright.”  
“It looks better than ‘alright’, I have great taste.”  
“Okay let's get this one, no point in trying the third one. Also, Proudhon was the first person to call himself an anarchist after spending a whole book tearing into capitalism.”  
  
  
He pays for it and we walk out leaving the quiet store behind, a bag hanging off my arm. The sidewalk is full of noise. People rushing from place to place, cars on their way to work or god knows where.  
“Anarchism means ‘no rulers’ kitten and I don’t have any rulers.”  
“You’re basically just neo-feudalism, of course, you have rulers. Anarchism means 'without hierarchy' you moron plus I also have no rulers.”  
“Yeah yeah like Stalin.”  
“I’m not a tankie, Ancap. Plus the only reason why you don’t have rulers is because you are the ruler.”  
He grabs my hand. It feels different and better when sober, his soft bourgeois fingers in mine. I don't think I ever want to let go.  
“In your dreams Ancom.”  
  
  
  
We wander past a storefront, it’s a jeweller. Ancap drifts to peer into the store windows. Various watches, rings and earrings glimmer under the sun like little stars.  
Ancap points at a pair of earrings.  
“You’d look nice in those.”  
“I might but you are not allowed to buy them.”  
“I can buy whatever I want. The free-market said so.”  
“Yeah well, they were probably mined by people in the third world, who are underpaid and can’t unionise. Maybe even children. Breathing in dust and so on which destroys their lungs.”  
“I mean I don’t see anything wrong with that.”  
“Highly unethical.”  
He just shrugs and I pull him away from the window.  
  
  
  
**Ancap**  
“Okay, now we have to go buy some makeup. I miss black lipstick.”  
“Giving in and buying crap already?”  
“No.” they give me an enigmatic grin and drag me into a makeup store they just located. I follow them around as they browse. I see their eyes flitting around but otherwise, they walk around with a confidence I never see in them, I just chalk it up to them feeling comfortable here. They locate some black lipstick and I just mill around waiting for them to find the other stuff they also wanted.  
“Okay, we can go now.”  
I raise an eyebrow.  
“And for a second I thought you’d give in and actually buy something.” they just smile at me and shrug.  
  
  
  
  
  
In the morning after a decent hotel breakfast, I knock on their door.  
“Ready to go, Ancom?”  
“Yeah.” I hear them through their door. They open it and stand before me. The black dress, black lipstick and some green eye shadow. A massive gender fuck but we look somewhat matching. We’re both in all black with a little bit of our respective colour. Their green and my yellow tie.  
“Where did you get that makeup from?”  
“Expropriated it” they smile at me enigmatically again.  
“Ancom you can’t shoplift! What about their profits? That was their private property! What if I had shares in the company?!” my eyebrow starts twitching and I clamp my hand on it.  
“Sucks to suck Ancap. Be gay, do crime.” they give me a self-satisfied grin and shrug. I just shake my head at them in defeat and sigh.  
“Okay let’s go then.”  
  
  
  
  
**Ancom** **  
** I watch Ancap buzzing around the convention hall like a mosquito sucking the blood and money out of everyone he meets. I don’t really care what he talks about but he shakes hands and hands out business cards, all with inexhaustible energy. He’s beaming the whole time. And honestly, it’s quite an achievement and I hate to say it but I think I admire him for it?  
  
I drift up to him when he’s finally alone.  
“You’re so charismatic you could be a cult leader.”  
“Yea a cult of basic economics.”  
I roll my eyes at him.  
“Yeah, yeah you owned yourself and I can lead the cult of advanced economics. You should read Bookchin or Marx or something.”  
“Also Ancom, wanna get trashed again after this?”  
“Sure.”  
“Booze and cocaine?”  
“That’s not a good combination Ancap. You could die.” he shrugs.  
“Killjoy. Just booze then I guess but I don’t mind. Can we stay in though?” he grins at me.  
“Why? Too embarrassed about your dancing?”  
“Shut up kitten.”  
“Also I hate this place, kinda wanna call in with a bomb threat.”  
“If you’re going to do that, only do it when we’re done." he laughs at my “joke”. Then he spots someone who he recognises and disappears.  
  
  
I find a seat in the large hall, crowded with people. 10 minutes later Ancap walks to the podium, this time his glasses are off. He was going on about how you need to make eye contact when doing public speaking. Before he starts, he adjusts his tie, letting his eyes dart through the crowd.  
When they meet mine, he winks.  
Then he clears his throat and he starts. He spends the next hour giving a speech on the positives of market deregulation or at least that’s what I parse from it anyway. 

  
We stagger back to the hotel room. I have to support Ancap from collapsing, his legs ready to give out. And I'm also ready to give out from having to support the taller anarchist and also all the booze in my system. You’d think he’d be able to handle alcohol better than me but he’s a complete lightweight.  
I release my grip on him so he falls on his bed, but he grabs me and pulls me down with him. I’m lying on him, our faces centimetres apart and his arms are around me. My breath hitches. His hair is dishevelled and it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his hat. He takes his sunglasses off and chucks them on the nightstand, miraculously they don’t break.  
  
We just lay like that for a solid minute.  
“Kitten?”  
“What?”  
“You’re so pretty and so strong and so capable. Everyone just thinks you’re some depressed fucking junkie who doesn’t know anything. A little anarkiddie. But in reality, you fucking bash and burn people, you’re far more scary than the rest of us but at the same time, you’re the kindest and the sweetest. Also how you haven’t murdered Nazi I don’t know.” he rambles, his words slurring together. I return his kind words.  
  
“Y’know what Ancap, you’re actually pretty alright. You’re probably the only extremist I trust. You are a greedy bastard but at least you’re not a judgemental cunt. You don’t call me a fucking junky and don’t shit on everything I do. I can have fun with you and I don't have to worry that you'll murder me. Genuinely nice to me and I appreciate it. Nice person. You look really good in suits. Also, I fucking hate Nazi.” I just ramble, my whole brain is a smudge so I don’t even know what I’m actually saying. I'm in a haze of alcohol.  
  
  
“Me too kitten, me too.” his eyes go sad. He shoves me off him but his arms snake around me and we fall asleep together.


	4. Moscow - Chapter Four

While Ancap is looking at the duty-free alcohol, I remember one thing I'd nearly forgotten. I didn’t want to ruin Ancap’s convention while we were still in London. I fish out my old cracked iPhone from my pocket and call the police.   
I finish my call and walk to a nearby bin and drop my phone in it. Ancap realises and raises his eyebrow.   
“Finally throwing the old piece of crap away? We can get you a new one in Moscow kitten.”   
“Don’t worry about it Ancap.” I try my best not to smile but I can’t bloody help it. The smug glee from destroying someone’s convention. Now that’s real praxis.   
“Wait something’s going on. What did you do?” his eyes narrow in suspicion at my smile.   
“Y’know how I mentioned the bomb threat…”   
“Oh, Jesus I thought you were joking.”   
“You better not nark Ancap. Also, it’s a way better option than propaganda of the deed.”   
“What's that? Wait. I don’t think I want to know. You know if I were a statist, I’d have called the police? Let’s go.” he storms off, his suitcases bumping aggressively every time it hits a gap in the tiles.   
  


  
Only on the plane, I realise I could have just thrown away the sim card instead. I fish out one of the books I took from Ancap. I finished the Stephen King and now I’m onto James Patterson. I remember reading these as a kid and honestly, I was probably too young for them. They haven't aged as well as I thought they would either.   
  
  
Ancap wakes up two hours later from a nap, he’s no longer pissed off but he’s not in a normal state either. He cracks his laptop open, I watch him out of the corner of my eye.   
“Ancom?”   
“Yeah?”   
“Can you do me a favour, for a fee of course?”   
“Depends.”   
“When we arrive, we’re not going to be talking to the most savoury people and I'd like you to go with me, with your bat. Please?”   
“Sure and you don’t have to pay me. Also, I don't have a bat.”   
“We can get one in a sports store somewhere. The bat is the least of my problems but just in case I have a trick up my sleeve but I’m not telling you what it is until we get through security at the airport.”   
  
  
  
  
The plane kisses the runway and we touch down at Sheremetyevo International Airport. The city of Moscow spreads out like a coloured carpet beneath us but otherwise It’s just a rinse and repeat of London. But this time it’s even more confusing since I don’t speak Russian and neither does Ancap. But somehow we manage to get through it all and grab our rental car.   
  
  
  
Our hotel is right in the centre of Moscow. It’s a massive art nouveau beast in white and pale mint. We stand at the desk, Ancap tapping his credit card on the marble counter. He looks at me and for once, his face is genuinely unreadable. The sunglasses obscuring any emotion.   
“Two rooms or just one?”   
“One.”   
And then he gets back to trying to speak to the staff.   
  
  
  
Once we make it through the language barrier, we get to our room. It’s massive with three rooms and It feels like we’re living in a museum. Wood-panelled walls, chandelier, a sofa I’m too scared to sit on, antique chairs and tables. I throw myself on the bed but he instead fishes something out of his pants and holds it up to show me. It’s a gun.   
“How the fuck did you get that through airport security?”   
“It’s 3D printed.”   
“Ohhhhhh.”   
“Yeah the metal detector won’t go off and if I don’t put it in my suitcase, they won’t detect it with the x-ray.”   
“That’s cool.” he hands me the gun. It’s a lot lighter than a regular gun and I shift it from hand to hand to get a feel of it.   
“I want one.”   
“I can buy you one.”   
“You’re not buying me shit.”   
“We’ll see about that.” he grins smugly.   
“Also why am I going with you if you have a gun. You’ll be fine.”   
“If I go missing, I'd at least like someone else to know where I went or at least have someone there as a backup.”   
“Are you scared Ancap?”   
“I’m unsure, not scared. But let's go and get dinner.” I raise my eyebrow at him. He puts the gun in his suitcase.  
  


  
We eat dinner in the massive dining hall. It looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the 20s or something. Its full soviet glory is on display. Golden gilded plant pots, a glass ceiling, marble columns, beautiful silverware and a pricey carpet. Ancap did make me wear the dress again.   
“We can’t have you looking poor in this hotel and especially around me.”   
“That’s extremely classist Ancap. There’s nothing wrong with being poor.”  
“You act being classist is a bad thing.”   
“Asshole.”

The food is great and I eat with full gusto like it’s my last meal whereas something has fallen over Ancap, he just sullenly pushes his food around, not eating much.  
  


 **Ancap  
** Ancom looks at me, their eyebrows furrowed in concern.   
“Don’t like Russian food Ancap?”   
“No. I like it just fine.”   
“You alright Ancap?”   
“Yes.”   
“You sure?”   
“Yes.”   
“Wanna talk about it?”   
“No.”   
  
  
I just feel empty like a zombie. Maybe it’s the MDMA we took the other day, the Tuesday blues. Maybe it’s the meeting. I don’t know what it is but I feel like dog shit and really tired. I just want to lie down and sleep. But it’s not normal tiredness. I can’t snap out of it, I can’t sleep it off. It just lingers. I have to lie down.   
“Ancom you can have my food if you.”   
“Thank you.”   
They take my plate and I wait for them to finish and then we leave.   
  
  
  
They start getting ready for bed. By the time I'm finished with my shower, they’re already asleep. I crawl into bed.   
  
  
**Ancom** **  
**I feel the mattress move when he climbs in.  
“Ancom are you awake?” he mumbles softly.   
“Yeah?”   
“Can you please spoon me, I’ll pay you. It makes me feel less like shit.”   
“Sure.”   
He shuffles over with his pillow. I loop my arm around him. My nose is filled with the smell of his expensive shampoo.   
“Thank you,” he says quietly.   
I can feel his breathing, it slows as we both descend into sleep.   
  
  
  
  
When we wake, he has his old energy back. His smug grin and his mind is on the money so we go to breakfast.   
“I can’t stand the interior design.” and points at various things with his fork.   
“I fucking hate the fountain and the chairs. Too garish.” he takes another bite.   
“My house kinda used to look like this but then I had it all torn out. The outside is lovely and so is the pool but I fucking hate this old shit so I had a complete renovation done. Cost a couple million, forgot how much though.”   
“That’s pretty wasteful, really bad for the environment. People toiled in mines for that shit, so many trees cut down the amount of effort that the workers put into it. You could have housed so many homeless people, fed so many starving people and paid people’s healthcare pills... ” he just shrugs.   
“I mean I sold some of the crap. Also on the topic of money, that reminds me” he pulls out another 20 dollar note from his wallet.   
“This is for last night.”   
“I refuse to accept it.”   
“Take it.” he waves the note in my direction.   
“Nope.”   
“Think of the economy.”   
“Still a nope.”   
“Alright then.”   
He retracts his arm, his wallet and the money return back into his pocket.   
  
  
“Let’s go kitten. That was a lovely breakfast but we have weapons to buy and deals to make.”   
I dress as threateningly as possible so pretty much my Black bloc gear minus the sunglasses while he dresses to impress. It creates a somewhat amusing contrast. Him exuding wealth and luxury whereas I look like I'm going to rob a bank. But then I mean, rich people rob all the time. It’s called the theft of surplus labour.   
We climb into the car.   
“Hey wait. I know I usually drive but since you’re my ‘security guard’, you’re going to have to drive.” it’s followed up by a sniffle.   
“I mean why not. I don’t have a driver's license.”   
“Haha I mean I don’t either. I never got mine since they’re for statists and I’m not a statist.” his drawl hits new levels of smugness. Then he wipes his nose with his blazer sleeve.   
“I don’t have mine since I never passed the drivers test.”   
“Don’t worry kitten you’ll do fine. I believe in you.”   
  
  
  
I pull up outside a warehouse on the industrial end of town without a hitch. Thank god for the GPS otherwise we’d have never gotten there. They’re already waiting outside for us, two armed guards.   
“Uh Ancap, they’re armed.” I shift nervously in the car.   
“You get used to it.”   
A large middle aged man turns up after we climb out of the car. He walks up to the middle-aged man like he owns the world.   
“Ah here comes the yank.”   
“So nice to see you Mr Statnik.” Ancap’s smug grin is dazzling.   
  
  


**Ancap  
** The man-crushes my hand like a vice but I don’t even blink. He leads us through the warehouse, it’s packed with pallets wrapped in plastic. I slow down in hopes that I get a sneak peek at their contents but they don’t reveal any of their secrets.   
We end up in his office. The man offers me a bowl of hard candies.   
“Take one.” I take two. But I only unwrap one and pop it in my mouth. One for me and one for Ancom.   
“Or two.” the man laughs.   
“Well sit down.”   
I sprawl in the chair confidently while Ancom stands behind me menacingly. This is probably one of the best feelings, a mix of confidence, cocaine and knowing that Ancom has my back. Is this what solidarity the communists always harp on about feels like?   
For a second, I swear I feel their hand brush my upper shoulder. It doesn’t linger long enough to be comforting but I'm still grateful for it.   
“How are you Mr Ancap. I doubt that is your real name but neither is Statnik.” he gives out a cheerful laugh.   
“I’m fine and you?” I say curtly.   
“Fantastic well let's get down to business Mr Ancap.”   
We discuss the arms, it drags on for a while and Ancom is probably ready to doze off.   
“Well, Mr Statnik I hope that is all since I’m on a strict time schedule since I have a flight to Doha I have to catch. I will transfer you the funds soon and thank you for doing business with me.”   
We both stand up and he shakes my hand again.   
  
  
  
“Well, Mr Ancap before you leave do you quickly vant to do a test of our arms?”   
“That sounds fantastic.”   
We walk out to an empty yard. It’s a cloudy Moscow day so the cracked concrete is even more grim than usual.   
“Here Mr Ancap is our bootleg, well I like to say it's an improved version of Sig-Sauer P229. Ve make these in our factory”   
He loads it and hands it to me.   
“And ve have targets.” and he points at the printed out targets which someone tapped to the wall. They’re not in the best condition, ink running thanks to the rain. And they’re even in worse condition when I empty a few rounds into them.   
“You have very good aim Mr Ancap.”   
“Thank you. Also, it looks like everything's in order. What do you want the payment in? Rubles? Bitcoin? US dollar? I can even do warships, I know you Russians love to deal in those.”   
“US dollar vill suit me fine also vould your lackey to try as vell?”   
  
  


The man takes the gun from me and hands it to Ancom. They fire a few shots. They do somewhat alright which is somewhat surprising since i’ve never seen them touch a gun. But then it’s not surprising since all the other extremists love guns so why not Ancom?  
  
  
  
  
“Hey Ancap, Tankie would be seething if he knew I went to Russia without him but with you.” I stop inspecting my nails. I don't really know what to say at all.  
“He can seethe all he wants. And honestly, I've always been a bit jealous of the Commie so fuck him.”   
“What do you mean?”   
“Don’t worry about it. Just keep driving.”   
  


  
Back in the hotel, I hand them the extra hard candy. They look somewhat surprised, they pop it in their mouth and flop backwards onto the bed with half their legs hanging off the bed, suspended in the air. I stand at the edge of the bed in between their legs and lean over them slightly.   
“You sure it’s not going to kill us?”   
“Well, at least we’re both dying together then. But on a serious note, if they wanted to, they wouldn't do it by poison since I haven't transferred the money and that’s what they want.”   
“It’s always about the money isn’t it?”   
“Yeah of course.”   
“Filthy fucking capitalist.” they swing their legs at me but miss.   
“Horrible fucking commie, you just violated my NAP.” they grin up at me. It takes literally everything in me not to lean over and kiss them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was alright and coherent. Was tripping mad balls on ideology :woozy:


	5. Frankfurt Part One - Chapter Five

“I feel like I'm on the Lolita Express. Being flown all over the world in a private jet by a sleazy multimillionaire who wants to get in my pants.”  
“You’re cute but don’t flatter yourself Ancom.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean.”  
“Don’t worry about it. Also, it loses its novelty after a while.” and he walks to the mini-fridge to get himself some bourbon.  
“You know that’s not what I was asking. Also, elaborate.”  
“The novelty of a private plane, at first it's super cool and then you just get used to it. And you start to associate it with jet-lag and answering emails. Makes me wish the plane had a bed or something. Minarchist has a plane with a bed but his plane is smaller than mine so… I mean who's the one that's really winning?”  
“Consumerism.”  
“What?”  
“Stop dreaming about consumerism and commodities, they won’t make you happy,” I say sternly.  
“Yeah, you’re right. They don’t make me happy but at least I’m miserable in style.” he looks at his bourbon wistfully.  
“Why are you so happy Ancom when you have nothing but I have everything and I’m miserable.”  
I shrug.  
“I wouldn’t even consider myself happy. Just happier. I started going to therapy during the Centricide. I do things that please my own ego like helping the community. I still have bad days but it’s a lot better than bad years or bad months”  
He takes great interest in bourbon again, his face downcast.  
“I buy things and sell some shares and fuck a hooker and do drugs and then it gives me a hit of serotonin and adrenaline and then I get bored and then yeah I do it all over again and again and again and it never makes me happy.” he takes off his sunglasses and frantically wipes his eyes. Right now, there’s nothing I want more than just to hug the living crap out of him and hold him tight. I also feel the guilt well up, that it was my fault that I upset him.  
“Do you need a hug, Ancap? And I'm sorry for upsetting you.”  
“No. I’m fine and literally not your fault, it was starting to crop up again.” he leaves to cry in the bathroom. I hear it lock behind him so there’s nothing I can do.  
  
  
  
It’s a crappy landing in Frankfurt Airport. Another airport, another landing but for each one, it’s still a novelty. The last time I flew on a plane before all of this was when I was 9 and that wasn’t international but a two hour flight. So a private jet and international travel is something pretty new.  
We manage to hassle our way through the German airport again. This one is horrible, the ceiling covered in exposed pipes and lit by fluorescent lights so I'm grateful when we leave in a rental car.  
“Oh by the way kitten, we’re not staying in a hotel. We’re staying with a business associate of my dad.”  
“Finally somewhere bloody normal. What are we even doing in Frankfurt?”  
“I have an important meeting with someone, I'm buying a painting.”  
  
  
  
  
We slowly cruise down the streets of German suburbia, lined with identical houses and extremely clean and quiet streets. I don’t think anyone under the age of 70 lives here.  
“Turn right.” he does as the GPS says.  
“You have reached your destination.”  
We stop in front of a two-storied house, it looks just like the others. Made from bricks and with a tiny garden in front of it.  
We walk through the garden and knock on the door. I hear footsteps and then the door opens. It’s a cheery seventy-year-old lady. She yells something down the hall.  
“Schatz, deine besucher sind hier!” at her words, an old man her age turns up. He grins from ear to ear.  
“Welcome, Mr Franklin. Please, please come in.” his English, accented.  
  
  
  
We sit down in the lounge, it’s a square room with a sliding door opening onto a sheltered deck covered in potted plants. The sofa snakes along the wall and it’s draped in an old orange blanket but very comfy.  
“Well Mr Franklin, this is my wife Carolin. I don’t know if you’ve met her before.”  
“Hello.” her accent is thick and she shakes his hand.  
“Well this is Ancom and they’re a good friend of mine.”  
“Nice to meet you Ancom. My name’s Linus Rott.”  
“Waddup Linus.”  
“Lovely. We can talk about business tomorrow but dinner sounds like a good idea right now.”  
  
  
  
We have a nice cold dinner. Dark German bread with an assortment of cheese slices and salami.  
Carolin shows us our room, it’s got a singular window looking onto the neighbour's garden but it’s still pretty sunny, bookshelves lining one wall and a double bed pushed into the corner.  
But we have to drag the damn suitcases up the stairs.  
For once I don’t flop on the bed instead I look at the bookshelf. There’s a book with Hitler on the cover but it’s not called Mein Kampf. The title is in German so there’s not really much I can do. The rest is fat tomes in German on stuff on botany, local wildlife and art. Ancap wanders over and looks over my shoulder.  
He’s standing close enough that I can feel his breath. His arm reaches around me and grabs one of the art books. It’s fucking ginormous. He struggles to hold it with his singular hand due to its colossal spine and its weight.  
“Ah, the renaissance. Not that interesting.”  
He places it on the bed and sits down. It gets cracked open to a random page. He starts flipping through the glossy pages, covered in images and large blocks of text.  
“Hey kitten look at that.” he points at a glossy picture of a painting. I sit down next to him.  
“Is that the painting you’re buying?”  
“I wish. It’s Adoration of the Magi by Botticelli.” It depicts the Virgin holding baby Jesus whilst surrounded by a crowd of people. With ruined buildings and desolate landscape as it’s backdrop.  
“You said you didn’t find Renaissance shit interesting?”  
“No, I just said it wasn’t that interesting. Modern and contemporary art is way, way, way better.”  
  
  
  
He starts rambling passionately about the paintings and flipping through the books showing me things. Rapid-fire speech about the Siege of Florence, the Medici and trillions of other things. I have literally no clue what he’s saying so I just lay down on the bed on my side, my head by his knee and the book very close to my face. His spare hand reaches out for me and ends up in my hair, messy from the long hours in the plane.  
But he quickly removes it to turn a page.  
  
“No.”  
“What?”  
“Play with my hair.”  
I feel the weight of his hand again, fingers snaking through my hair.  
“Happy?”  
“Yeah,” I mumble drowsily.  
Something about the travel, his hand in my hair and his rambling lulls me into pure comfort and then eventually sleep. This is nearly as good as heroin.  
  
Sunlight filters through the gap at the bottom of the roller blinds and Ancap is sprawled out next to me. I’m still dressed in my clothes that I fell asleep in but that doesn’t bother me.  
“Ancap?”  
“Mhm,” he mumbles half asleep.  
“Are we going to get that painting or not?”  
“Too early to think,” he mumbles and grabs his phone. I assume he turned it on because his phone goes off. A hellish symphony of notification sounds and vibrations. I just groan.  
“Sorry about that kitten. I have no clue what’s going on.”  
  
  
  


**Ancap** **  
** I sit up and scroll through millions of texts and missed calls from the other Libertarian Rights. Ancom shuffles to look over my shoulder and I put my arm around them. They curl up into me.  
“What the fuck happened.”  
“No clue.” I mean I'd probably know if I bothered reading the texts but they’re so many of them.  
  
I call Libertarian and put it on speakerphone. He picks up instantly.  
“What the fuck is going on also you are on speakerphone.”  
“Who are you with.”  
“Just Ancom.”  
“Oh.” he cringes audibly. Ancom frowns.  
“Well anyway Ancap, the Anprims have launched an attack on Ancapistan.”  
“What did you do.” Ancom’s face goes grim.  
“Shot at them and that managed to drive them off. Some have been captured.”  
Ancom moves into my lap and takes my phone. I give it up without much hesitation and wrap my arms around them. My cold arms absorbing their body heat.  
“Release them now or you’ll regret it.” their voice cold and laced with dangerous intent. It takes me off guard. Their usually carefree and pretty face marred with discontent, cooking up something.  
I take the phone back.  
“Very interesting Libertarian. But I'll have to call you back.” and hang up.  
  
We look at each other.  
“What are we going to do with the Anprims, Ancom?”  
“Let them go.”  
“Why? Are you insane? They violated the NAP.”  
“The NAP is a spook anyway but c’mon we need as many anarchists as we can get. What if the statists turn up or something? We both know they’re going to turn up so I’d rather have a horde of Anprims on our side.”  
I think a bit.  
“Yeah okay, I guess you’re right Ancom.”  
  
Carolin knocks on the door. She then opens it and peaks inside.  
“Breakfast funf minuten.” She shows five fingers.  
Ancom crawls out of my lap and grabs their clothes to get dressed in the bathroom.  
I quickly call Libertarian.  
“Free the Anprims. We need allies. The statists are going to come after us sooner or later. I can feel it in my veins and I think Ancom can too.” and then hang up before he gets a word through. Then I go and get dressed myself.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a bit short. I split one larger 4k thing in half since it just didn't feel right having such a massive chapter


	6. Frankfurt Part Two - Chapter Six

**Ancom  
** The man leads us into his basement, the air is cold and dry. My bare feet slap on the freezing on the cold tiles. I kick myself for not at least putting on socks.  
The man opens the door to the room and flicks the light switch on. It’s a small room with shelves with fruit preserves and juice on them. In the corner sits a crate of mineral water, a small table and a box. It’s about two metres by three metres and it’s leaned against the wall.

The man points at it.  
“Here it is.”  
Ancap removes his sunglasses.  
“Fantastic. Can you show me it?” he gestures at the box with his sunglasses. The old man lifts the box and places it sideways on the small table. He opens it and grips something which he then pulls out tenderly and foam peanuts spill onto the ground.

Off comes the Styrofoam and then the plastic wrap. Only then is the true beauty of the painting revealed. It’s a chaotic piece of ochres, yellows, blacks, blues and military green making up figures. It’s also a lot smaller than the massive box, it’s about fifty centimetres wide but the gilded frame makes it ginormous.  
“This painting has an interesting history. Painted in 1923 so it’s Dada. It was seized by the Nazi’s in World War Two and then disappeared for thirtyish years. I managed to get my hands on it and here it is now.” Ancap pales.  
“I hate nazis.”  
The man laughs.  
“Don’t we all.”  
“Well, how do you know it’s authentic. Who did you get it from?”  
“Sorry can’t tell you that but it’s definitely authentic. Look at the signature.” Ancap leans over to look at it, clearly not impressed.  
“Ancap can I quickly talk to you.”  
“Sure.” he nods at the man in apology and we walk into the corridor.

  
  


“It’s a bad idea. Don’t buy it Ancap.” his brows are furrowed and the end of the arm of his sunglasses are rested on his lips.  
“I feel like I'm getting ripped off. The man has no documents with him,” he says, his voice filled with uncertainty.  
“That painting probably has the blood of Jewish people on it. Well, not physically but you know what I mean.” Ancap nods thoughtfully.  
“As you always say, all consumption is unethical so I don’t see a problem with buying a Nazi painting but I have a gut feeling that this painting is forged. I don’t want to spend money on something that’s a forgery. Even if it’s a nice one.”  
“That’s not what I mean when I say consumption is unethical.” I sigh in exasperation. And then it hits me. I grab his arm and pull him closer to me.  
I whisper in his ear. His face gains a red tinge.  
“We steal it.”  
“We can’t. He knows my dad. My dad’s going to be livid.”  
“Scared of daddy? Scared you won’t get his inheritance? Poor little Ancap. But you already have so much money so you might as well do it. C’mon.” as I egg him on, I give him a peck on his earlobe and he goes even more red, revolutionary red.  
“Fine but if this goes wrong it’s your fault kitten. I will completely ignore that this is a blatant violation of the NAP.”  
I give him a faux-innocent smile and then release his arm.  
“It won’t go wrong.”

  
  


He puts his sunglasses on and then we go back to Linus.  
“Okay, so I need to think this over. Also, can you do me a favour, Linus?”  
“Sure?”  
“Don’t mention this to my dad and don’t mention Ancom either.”  
He laughs.  
“I’ll take it to my grave.”  
“Good.” Ancap flashes him one of his grins.

  
  


**Ancap  
**I can feel Ancom’s excited energy. It’s coming off them in waves. I just hope that Rott doesn’t sense it either. Also literally everything in me wants to drag them into the bedroom and kiss the living daylights out of them but I have to keep acting composed.

The rest of the day passes slowly. We sit on the deck, admire their garden and hold boring small talk. In between spending time with the Rotts, we spend time in our bedroom cooking up our plan of action like its high-grade meth.  
“Ancap, what if we replace the painting with the books in the middle of the night.”  
“What if they inspect the painting in the morning before we leave?”  
“Then we leave at four in the morning. They won't be properly awake and won't have time to think. Say we’re taking a flight to…” they wave their arm around in the air.  
“Doha, it’s always Doha.”  
“Doha it is then. Also, what do we do if they report it missing.”  
“It’s black market art. There’s no way they’re calling the police kitten. That’d just be fucking stupid.”  
“They’re rich bourgeois boomers, they’re probably not very clever.” _  
_ “That’s classist Ancom.”  
“It’s not classist if it’s against the bourgeois dumbass.”

In the small dining room, mid-meal, I make the decision.   
“I’ve decided against purchasing the painting. The Nazi background leaves me very conflicted plus I have no method of verifying it’s authenticity at the present moment. I mean no offence by that and I’m very sorry for wasting your time. Our flight to Doha leaves at 4am and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”  
“Oh, I thought you were flying to Ancapistan or America or something?”  
“Something came up last minute and I have to catch the first flight there.” I drawl and give him my best dazzling smile.

  
  


We watch some soccer, I don't particularly care or understand what's going on. Linus offers me a shot of Jägermeister and we hold more boring conversation. Ancom has disappeared somewhere into our room or to take a bath so I'm left alone to discuss this crap. But then the conversation drifts to art, making it a lot more bearable.  
“Well, I ought to head to bed and so should you Ancap.”  
“That sounds like a good idea.”  
I head upstairs and Ancom is trying to read but they’re even more wired than they were before. It’s another one of my books.  
“Hey, babe you can sleep if you want. I’ll wake you, there’s no way I’m sleeping like this,” they say absentmindedly, not looking up from my book. I feel the red creeping up my neck like ants under my skin but they don’t react or say anything so I just assume it was accidental. Holy fucking shit.  
I climb into bed next to them, them sitting on top of the duvet next to me. I fall asleep to the sound of pages turning.

“Ancap?”  
I feel a hand on my shoulder, lightly shaking me.  
“A few more minutes please?” I grumble.  
“The painting you moron.”  
Suddenly I'm wide awake and I sit up.  
Ancom is sitting on the end of the bed and putting on a pair of socks. I stand up and start collecting books which would match the shape and weight of the painting. When I finally have the books I hand them to Ancom. They struggle with the stack.  
“You’re going to have to take half Ancap.”  
I grab half of them and we steal down the stairs.

Every one of our footsteps are amplified by the dead silence. It’s pitch black and we’re too scared to turn the lights on in the stairwell. When we get to the basement, I manage to turn the lights on with my elbow. And then we get into the room.

  
I place the box on the small table again and slide out the painting and place it on the ground. I cringe but it has to be done and then I start placing the books in the box. Ancom picks up the painting.  
“How the fuck are we going to get it home?”  
“Oh shit. We didn’t fucking think of that.”  
“Remove it from its frame and roll it up.”  
“We can’t fucking do that. What if the paint cracks or something? Plus it’s on a canvas, that won’t work”  
“Ancap we have no choice.”  
“Let’s just remove the frame first. Give me the thing.”

They hand me the painting and we realise there are staples we have to remove. Ancom towers over me while I sit on the ground.  
“I have tweezers.”  
“You think that’ll work?” I look at them uncertainly. They nod and disappear.  
They return in what feels like forever, holding a makeup bag. They sit down on the floor and empty it out in front of them. Eyeshadow palettes, lipsticks and other various items tumble onto the tiles. Ancom starts frantically searching through the makeup.  
“Got it!” they hold up the tweezers triumphantly.  
“Good job kitten.” I smile at them.  
I manage to get the staples out while they put their stuff back in the bag, it does leave a slightly sparkly sheen on the tiles.  
In between the frame and the canvas is a black band going all the way around. I manage to get a hold on it with the tweezer and carefully rip it out. Only then I manage to remove the canvas.  
“Stuff the frame back in the box,” they whisper loudly, they grab it and place it back in the box.

We steal back up the stairs with the painting and the plastic wrap. When we get back into our room they fling their arms around me. I smile so hard my face is about to break.  
“We fucking did it.”  
“I mean you said it’d work.”  
“Hey we haven't gotten out of the house, don’t jinx it.” they giggle.  
“Shhhh they’re trying to sleep.”  
“I don’t bloody care.”  
“Well, kitten I’m going to try and get some sleep. Wake me at three-thirty.”

  
  


I pull the clothes out of my second suitcase and place the painting in it gently. It’s small enough that it barely fits. I made sure to wrap it with the plastic again. I try to move as much of my clothes as I can into my other suitcase but I still can’t fit it all. I packed too many clothes.  
“Hey kitten can you put some of my shit in your suitcase?” they grab the crap from the small pile next to me and unceremoniously shove it in their suitcase, probably wrinkling them but that’s the least of my problems at the moment.

  
  


Linus waves us goodbye as we leave. I hit the gas and the moment we’re out of sight Ancom yells triumphantly.  
“WE FUCKING DID IT! I TOLD YOU SO.” their good vibes are infectious.  
“Hell fucking yeah. I called ahead so we can go straight home when we get to the airport instead of having to wait.”  
“Fan-fucking-tastic also where are we going to put the painting?”  
“I didn’t think about that.”  
“Should we donate it? I mean if it really is a Nazi painting then it was stolen, y’know return it to the original owner.”  
“Yeah sure, why not.”  
“Are you tripping Ancap?” they look at me like I'm mad.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Normal Ancap would have never fucking donated anything let alone stolen from someone.  
“Well normal Ancom wouldn’t have accepted an international trip paid by a multimillionaire.”  
“True.”

  
  
We get comfy on the plane. During takeoff, Ancom asks me,  
“Why is it always Doha?”  
“If you have to think of a place quickly then it sounds like you’re lying. So you just don’t think about the place.”  
“I mean you are lying.” I shrug.

Sleep claims us soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also am currently working some Homonash/Nazi and Homonash/Post-Left shit


	7. Real Birthday Hours - Chapter Seven

**Ancom  
** I hear a knock on my door.  
“Ancom?”  
“Yeah?” my voice still thick with sleep.  
I sit up in my bed and slowly open my eyes.  
“What is it Ancap?”   
“It’s your birthday.”  
“Oh fuck I completely forgot.”  
He enters the room holding flowers and a tray with breakfast on it.  
“Fuck off Ancap, you better have not gotten me shit.” but I’m grinning like mad.  
“Yes, I did. Just be grateful that I didn’t plan a surprise party or something. I’d have invited only Hoppean and that’s it.”  
“I mean beating the shit out of him would have been a pretty good birthday gift but come here.” he just walks up to the edge of the bed. He sticks his sunglasses in his blazer pocket, folding each arm with care.  
“No, I mean let me hug you.” he kicks his shoes off and clambers on my bed, his face slightly flushed.  
  
I wrap my arms around him, he essentially straddles me. He looks glorious, absolutely beaming and this time it’s not the smug smile.  
“Goddammit Ancap.” he just giggles like a fool. I cup his cheeks and kiss him.  
He kisses me back eagerly and full of want. But our kisses become less frantic and more tender, just savouring the moment.  
“God, you have no idea for how long I've wanted to do that kitten.” his voice soft with adoration, just like the time we were tripping in London.  
I pull him in for another kiss. His kisses start to trail further down to my face and onto my neck. Embarrassing little moans escape me.  
With my arms wrapped around him, I manage to get his shirt unstuck. I struggle and he lets out a breathy laugh. My fingers crawl up his back under his shirt. I feel his back ripple as he rolls his hips into me.

  
When I finally get around to my breakfast a while later, it’s cold but I still eat it anyway.

  
  
  
Ancap, usually extremely poised, is showing genuine emotions instead of the standard smugness. He also has a hickey.  
He leads me to the lounge. On the glass table sit three wrapped presents.  
“Open them.”  
“Fuck you for buying me shit.” he just smirks.  
I sit down to unwrap them. A new phone, a novelty mug with Hello Kitty on it holding a Molotov and a pair of earrings, nestled in dark red velvet. They look exactly like the ones we saw in London, they’re teardrop earrings which dangle and they must have cost a fortune.  
I stand up to hug him.  
“Thank you Ancap even though I said you’re not allowed to get me crap,” I mumble into his shoulder.  
“Anything for you, kitten.” he rubs my back.  
  
  
“C’mon put them on. I made sure they were synthetic so that it’s more ‘ethical’ instead of the usual blood diamonds.”  
“It’s still unethical.”  
I pick them up gently and slip them on.  
He walks up to me, close enough that I can feel his breath on my face and then he cups my face with his hands.  
“You look beautiful.” the usual smugness from his voice gone and replaced with sincerity.  
“Fuck your capitalist beauty standards. Wearing expensive shit doesn’t make me beautiful”  
“You look beautiful without them anyway.”  
And he kisses me softly.  
  
“Also Ancom, do you want to go somewhere nice for dinner?”  
“Don’t you dare take me out. You’re not allowed to.” I nestle my face into his shoulder again.  
“What about a scenic helicopter ride?” I hesitate before answering.  
“I don’t know.”  
“We can get pizza and pot afterwards.” he purrs.  
“Yeah alright, babe. That sounds really good”  
  
  
  
  


 **Ancap  
** We both clamber into the helicopter. I chose the one with the larger windows instead of the luxury one. So it only has a bench behind the driver’s seat. Ancom is still bouncing off the walls and they haven't taken off their earrings. They swing wildly with each chaotic movement.  
  
  
The helicopter takes off. Ancom is fine for a few seconds but in the dim light, I see their face go pale.  
“Fuck fuck fuck. I forgot how much I hated helicopters and heights.”  
They close their eyes tightly.  
“Don’t worry kitten, you won’t get thrown out of the chopper.”  
Their hand searches for mine frantically and finds it. I give it an encouraging squeeze.  
  
  
The slums and skyscrapers of Ancapistan stretch out beneath, lit up by lights. Car lights and light emanating from the windows. It’s unbelievably beautiful even though I’ve seen it a trillion times before.  
“Kitten you can open your eyes again, the ascent is over. We’re going to be cruising at a steady altitude now.”  
They free themselves from my arms and lean slightly towards the window, every movement cautious.  
“On Marx’s and Makhno’s damn grave.” their face pales again and they start to shuffle towards me again, towards the centre of the bench. And wrap my arms around them again.  
“Ancapistan looks beautiful which is rare but holy shit am I fucking terrified.” I chuckle, they join in but their laughter is thin and reedy. I can feel them trembling, their arms shaking. 

They stumble out of the helicopter, nearly falling. But they manage to stabilise themselves. And then they throw up right on the helipad. Once they’re done, they wipe their mouth with their filthy hoodie and look at me. I just stand there slightly perplexed.  
They start laughing.  
“That was fucking horrible. Let’s go get that pizza.”  
They stumble towards me, their legs are still jittery. I wrap my arm around their waist, supporting them.  
“Let’s go kitten, you’d never make a good lib right if you can’t handle helicopters.”  
“Markets are cringe. I don’t want to be a lib right.” they grin at me.  
“And I don’t want to be a commie.”

  
  
  


We fucking gorge ourselves in his TV room, squashed up on the same sofa. Both of us are as high as a kite. My face is probably covered in grease and black lipstick smudges but for once I don’t care. I’m fucking exhausted but I feel amazing.  
I look at Ancom lying next to me, they’re completely out of it.  
“I think we’re out of pizza Ancom.”  
“Do you wanna cook something up… in the kitchen?”  
“Yeah sure.”

  
We make our way back to my kitchen. It's extremely clean with expensive marble countertops and tiling which I spent a fortune on but were definitely worth it. But I know they won't stay clean for long.  
“What we are gonna make kitten?”  
“I feel like mac and cheese.”  
I start digging around in the cupboards for a pot. Ancom digs out another pot, they light the joint with the gas oven lighter thing. They take a big drag from it.  
I find one that’s the right size and place it on the stovetop.  
“Do you know how to cook babe?”  
“Of course.” I roll my eyes at them, It doesn't really work since I'm grinning from ear to ear.  
I pour water in the pot while they rummage for pasta.  
“Found some!” they tear open the top of the box and pour it in.  
“Can you pass me the joint kitten?”  
  
I also take a drag and start to cough over the pasta. Ancom cracks up.  
“Fucking nasty… you’re going to get me sick.”  
“It wouldn't have been edible even if I y'know hadn't yeah sneezed on it. Also go grate the cheese.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do... statist.” but they dig through the fridge and locate the cheese.  
“Says the statist.”  
I start to zone out, hypnotised by the movements of the wooden spoon in the pot of water. The movement of the pasta. The boiling water.  
  
  
We manage to get a pretty alright meal out of it which we eat at the breakfast bar. Ancom eats with gusto but then suddenly puts down their fork. It clangs loudly on the marble countertop.  
“Hey, Ancap?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you for the good birthday. It was really good.”  
“You’re welcome... you horrible commie.”  
They stand up and wrap me in a hug. I get a smooch on my cheek.  
“You stinky cappie.”  
“You bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit scuffed, it's an ungodly hour of the morning rn


	8. A Leftist Meeting - Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will add "fluff" to the tags, not because of this chapter tho. I have fried brains. This chapter is another one of those "well I wrote so much and now I have to split it in two"
> 
> Also forgot to add this but the f slur is dropped once in this chapter. So if you're uncomfy with that, just a heads up

Two weeks have passed since my birthday.  
My phone rings. It’s Progressive.  
“Hi Ancom, so concerning Leftist meetings, we thought you might wanna come over?”  
“Sorry I can’t.”  
“Tankie won’t be there plus you can bring a plus one.”  
“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  
  
  
  
I find Ancap, I find him in his office frantically typing on his computer.  
“Hey, Ancap?”  
“Yeah?” he swivels around in his chair.  
“Do you wanna go to a leftist’s meeting? Tankie won’t be there but we’ll have to bring food?” he looks at me, uncertain.  
“If they don’t guillotine me then I’ll go.”  
“I’m surprised it was that easy to convince you.”  
  
After one bloody long drive, I lead him down the garden path to the shed in Progressive’s garden.  
“God I wish we had just taken the helicopter. It’d have been so much faster.”  
“Bringing a helicopter to a leftist meeting is a really bad idea, Ancap.”  
"What could go wrong? I can give you friend 'free' helicopter rides. I bet they'd love that."  
"Something tells me that they might not be open to that."  
  
  
  
His garden is massive, wild and overgrown. Trillions of plants growing where they wish and massive trees throwing leaves everywhere.  
“I was expecting something nicer than this and I’m getting mud on my shoes,” grumbles Ancap.  
I knock on the door. I hear footsteps and the sliding of a bolt and then I see Progressive fling the door open and envelope me in a hug.  
“It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”  
I point at Progressive and then back at Ancap.  
“This is my brother Libertarian Socialist but he goes by Progressive. Progressive meet my friend? Ancap.”  
“Business associate,” says Ancap coolly.  
“Didn’t think you’d be bringing a capitalist to the meeting but come in.”  
Old wooden floorboards, a cobweb in the corner but otherwise it’s a relatively clean and homely garden shed. An old rug covers the floorboards and there are six chairs arranged in a circle like it’s an Alcoholic’s Anonymous meeting. 

**Ancap  
** We were the first to arrive so I just sit there awkwardly while Progressive and Ancom chat. I feel the posters of Stalin, Makhno, Lenin and other revolutionaries glaring me down for daring to invade their space. The other side of the wall is lined in pride flags: gay, non-binary and bisexual.  
  
  
The others file in: Nazbol, Posadist and then lastly Socialist.  
“Great to see you all here again. What praxis did you guys and enbies do?” people answer in a circle starting from the left.  
“I made more illegal fireworks.”  
“I carved somethings… into the bathroom stall at my school.” Nazbol quickly gets a dirty look from Ancom.  
“I wrote some articles for Teen Vogue and went to a protest.”  
“I helped with a beach clean up and did some LSD.”  
“I set a cop car on fire.”  
And then it gets to my turn, they all turn to look at me, waiting for me to say something.  
“I did drugs?” I say with uncertainty. Progressive nods in approval.  
“Good good.”  
  
  
“Vhy do we have the Kulak in the group?” Nazbol stands up. Socialist who’s sitting next to him pulls him down back into his chair.  
“Remember the first rule of Leftist Club. No infighting.” chimes in Progressive.  
“He isn’t even a leftist.”  
“If you calm down, we’ll let you say grace before we distribute the food.” Nazbol looks at the food on the table in the corner. The thought of blessing the pretty large mound of food shuts him up. _Chips, chocolate, carrot sticks, celery sticks, hummus, a glass of herrings and other assorted food shuts him up._  
  
And then they go around saying the goals they want to achieve before the next session. Ancom whispers in my ear.  
“Say you’ll read Stirner, they’ll leave you alone.”  
  
“Finally buy a nuke.”  
“Destroy a (((bank))).”  
“Go to another protest.”  
“Attend that tree planting event and strike.”

“Bash a fash.”  
“Uh... read Stirner.” they nod and move on.  
  
  


  
  
“In the name of our saviour Jesus Christ, Moses, the all-father Odin and Buddha; I bless the food we have before us.  
Alle guten gaben,  
Alles was wir haben,  
kommt oh Gott von dir,  
Wir danken dir dafür,  
Amen.”  
  
  
No one seems to bat an eye at the extremely weird grace and then we dig in. It’s a buffet of chips, cookies, celery and carrot sticks with hummus and a jar of herrings. I am tempted to make a communism food joke but I know that won’t go down well. Well no one bats an eye apart from Ancom who grumbles about the prayer.  
“The only church which illuminates is the one we set on fire.”  
Socialist cracks open the herrings and Ancom opens a bag of chips and offers some to me.  
I take some and Nazbol looks at me weirdly.  
“Watch yourself, Kulak.” I get another dirty look.  
“Hey Naz leave him alone.” Ancom steps in.  
“He’s my...” and waves around their hand which doesn’t have chips in it, looking for the correct word.  
“Business associate.” I finish for them.  
  
Socialist starts handing around a stack of pamphlets. I look at the top one, on its face is an article about factory sabotage. I cringe internally. I see Ancom pick up a newspaper from the stack and starts flipping through it. I peer over their shoulder and they slow down so I can also read.  
  
While I skim over crap about international revolutions, I notice the volume of the other side of the garden shed is rising slowly.  
“Sorry Naz but we don’t hang ideology flags,” says Socialist.  
“But it’s a pride flag so it should be allowed.” he protests, holding up a Nazi flag.  
“White pride doesn’t count.”  
“Yes, it does. It literally has pride in its name.”  
Progressive walks over.  
“Please shut up Naz, I love you but you can’t have a Nazi flag in the shed.”  
“Fuck you faggot.”  
“What the fuck Naz, you can’t call him that!” yells Ancom. Socialist nods in agreement.  
“FREEDOM OF SPEECH. I SEXUALLY IDENTIFY AS A FASCIST.”

While all this chaos goes on, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.  
“Eheheh I heard you sell nukes.”  
I grin. Finally something I feel comfortable with, ripping people off.  
“I sure do. How can I help you.”  
“Eh, I'd like one recreational nuke. No, no, no that’s not enough.”  
“I have loads. Name your price and they’re yours. But since it’s probably not the best time to sort it out right now, here’s my business card” I pull one out of my wallet and hand it to them.  
Nazbol’s attention shifts.  
“The Kulak is selling things. That violates rule number two of Leftist Club.” he states matter-of-factly.  
  
  
I’m the centre of attention all over again. But luckily Ancom steps in.  
“He doesn’t know any of the rules, leave him alone. It’s his first meeting.”  
“Well, I think we should teach the Kulak the rules of the Leftist Club then.” Nazbol’s voice is cold and cruel. It looks like his method of ‘teaching’ is going to be a black eye and a broken nose.  
“I’m really sorry for Naz being mean to you, he’s just not used to capitalists,” interjects Progressive. Socialist nods in agreement and then goes to a cupboard and grabs a large rolled up piece of paper.  
“Here are our rules.”  
  
_Rule one: no leftist infighting_ _  
_ _Rule two: no partaking in capitalism like selling things or apologia for capitalism_ _  
_ _Rule three: no physical fights_ _  
_ _Rule four: no mentioning of labour camps, gulags or concentration camps_ _  
_ _Rule five: no weapons allowed in the shed or on the property_

They’re printed in neat handwriting and in the corners, someone had added little hammers and sickles. Also, another person added in their messy scrawl at the bottom ‘please be sober’  
“Now Ancap knows the rules, please stick to them. They all exist for a reason.” Progressive smiles at me.

  
  
The general din is disrupted by a knock. Socialist and Progressive look at each other weirdly but Naz just smiles gleefully.  
Progressive goes to open the door and in comes, Anprim, covered in dirt and with a rabbit slung on his back.  
“Ooga booga heard anarchist at meeting.”  
“FOURTEEN WORDS.” hollers Naz excitedly across the small garden shed.  
“OOGA BOOGA FOURTEEN WORDS.” and they dance around in the centre of the circle like a pack of wild animals.  
Progressive just facepalms whereas Ancom looks disgusted. I lean over to Ancom and whisper to them.  
“What the hell is going on.”  
“They both have their own Fourteen Words thing but I don’t think they realise the other one means a different one. One is the nazi one and the other one is the industrial revolution one.”  
“We need to grab Anprim and question him concerning the attacks,” I whisper. They nod slowly.  
  
“Hey, Anprim I need to speak to you outside.”  
Anprim and Nazbol stop abruptly, their ritualistic chanting interrupted. Nazbol glares at Ancom.  
Ancom stands up and I follow their lead.  
Anprim’s face is just blank, he has no clue what’s going on. I straighten my tie and try to give them my best award-winning smile.  
“Please Anprim?”  
“Ooga booga I guess I join.” he slowly follows us outside, dragging his feet.  
Ancom sends me a guilty look.  
  
  
  
We stand outside of the garden shed in the dark, the air clean and sharp and the sound of frogs and crickets loud.  
He looks at the pair of us, in confusion.  
“Grug no understand.”  
“Why are you and your kind raiding Ancapistan?” my fake smile widens into an even larger grin.  
“Grug must destroy industrial society.”  
“Well can you just not?”  
Ancom steps in.  
“I don’t want to be mean to you Anprim, you’re lovely but I want fully automated gay communism. There’s nothing wrong with industrial society even though Ancapistan is cringe.” they give him a thumbs up in attempts to reassure him.  
“Grug did not raid Ancapistan. But Ancapistan raid good ooga booga. 14 WORDS OOGA BOOGA.”  
I can feel the twitch in my eyebrow arrive and start to worsen.  
“You violated my NAP  
“Grug not care for NAP.”  
“Try that shit again Anprim and I will McNuke™ you and everyone you love without hesitation.”  
“Fuck you ooga booga.” and he lungs at me with his bone but I manage to dodge it. He then storms off and we’re left alone in the dark.  
  
  
  
I'm fucking fuming.  
"He tried to violate my FUCKING NAP. You can't just fucking DO THAT!"  
I feel Ancom's arms wrap around me and they pat my back.  
"Calm down. It's alright."  
  
  
  
We just stand there for a while enjoying each other's company. And I've managed to calmed down.  
Ancom pipes up.  
“God I miss clean air.”  
“I don’t know if I miss it but I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”  
“Yeah me too Ancap.” I give them a soft kiss in response. Their smile gleams in the dark, like a trillion suns.  
“God you’re a gem even though you’re a capitalist,” they whisper softly. There's nothing I can do apart from kiss that bastard again. I fucking adore them.  
The door to the shed swings open, light pooling on the ground. It’s Nazbol.  
“Ew gross. Vhy are you kissing the capitalist? Vell anyway, Progressive told me to ask you if you vant to go and smoke some pot after this.”  
“Tell him I can't. I’m busy.” Naz leaves.  
Ancom returns the favour once the kid is gone, kissing me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning Buddha, I got that from a brief skim of Evola's wikipedia page.
> 
> Concerning Stirner, anarcho capitalism and stirner aren't compatible 
> 
> I'll chuck the next chapter up tomorrow or in a few hours. I'm being dogpiled with uni shit atm so craps wild


	9. Drugs, Liberty and Hentai - Chapter Nine

**Ancom  
** “Hey Ancap, wanna go for a walk?”  
“In the dark?”  
“Yeah of course. It’s always the best in the dark.”  
  
We walk through Progressive’s garden until we reach a low garden wall. It comes up to about my hips so I clamber over it. He just stands there, somewhat unsure.  
“C’mon climb over it.”  
He folds his sunglasses and places them in his blazer pocket. Then gingerly places his hands on the moss-covered wall and manages to get himself over the top of it.  
“Ew gross.” he inspects his slightly dirty hands.  
“You’re a wuss Ancap.”  
“Shut up kitten.”  
  
  
We’re standing at the treeline, before us the ground starts to decline a comfortable angle. The dark and the trees obscure any path or any trail but I have a decent clue of where I’m going.  
In the meantime, Ancap has turned the flashlight on his phone on.  
“Uh kitten, you sure this is a good idea?”  
“Yeah of course even though I haven't been here in a while.”  
“Not exactly reassuring.”  
“Don’t worry babe, we’ll be fine.” Ancap goes quiet.  
And I start off into the trees and he follows me, his light shining dimly before us. I know the approximate direction and I know how to get onto the trail.  
  
We make it down the incline. Before us is the creek, it’s bank slick with mud. It’s around a metre and a half wide, water rushing through it as it had recently rained.  
“Do we have to cross it? We should probably turn back.” he sounds even more unsure.  
“Not yet. Also, we have to keep the creek on our left.”  
  
  
  
After a 10 minute walk, along the meandering creek, we come to the ‘crossing’. It’s a part of the stream where I know the water is shallower, only a few centimetres deep. It’s also where the trail intersects with the creek. On the opposite bank, it snakes into the woods, quickly swallowed up by the dark.  
  
Ancap looks at the part of the trail on our side of the creek.  
“Where does that go?”  
“To some reserve or park. Kids come down here to smoke and drink in peace.”  
  
  
  
I just walk through the creek, a bit of water gets in my boots but it doesn’t bother me. I stand on the other side of the muddy bank. Ancap just stands opposite me, chewing on his lip.  
“My shoes were handmade by Somali orphans. I don’t want to get them wet.”  
“Take them off.”  
“I don’t want to get my feet wet. Okay, I think I will just jump.”  
He takes 5 steps slowly away from the creek, turns around sharply and then gathers up momentum.  
  
  
  
He makes it over the creek but he slips, his shoes probably not having proper grip like my boots. I grab him, my arms under his armpits and manage to stabilise him. But he nearly pulls me down with him. We stagger for a bit before managing to gain balance. It takes us longer than we actually need because I have a feeling that Ancap just wants to be pressed up against me with my arms around him.  
“That could have gone way worse. Lucky you didn’t hurt yourself.”  
“Forget about hurting myself, kitten. Do you know how much I spent on my suit?”  
“I don’t think I want to know.” he laughs.  
“So where exactly are we going apart from down a dodgy trail?”  
“There’s an old house in the middle of the woods…”

We follow the small trail through the dark and after 15 minutes of walking, we finally get there. Before us, looming menacingly in the dark stands an old house with an outhouse behind it.

The front door hangs off its hinges and the majority of the windows are boarded up. And those that aren’t are completely shattered with even the wood that’s meant to separate the window panes, smashed and decaying.  
“Um Ancom, this is a bit too spooky for me.”  
“Don’t be a pussy.”  
“AHA that’s sexist!” he points his finger at me.  
“Shut up babe.” and I grab his other hand and lead him into the house.

  
  


When I step over the threshold, I realise that nothing really has changed since I last was here. Piles of leaves, trash and the skeletons of furniture which has long since rotted away. What I assume used to be beautiful wallpaper is now peeling off and black with mold.  
In the middle of the old living room, there are three crates arranged in a circle. Probably from the kids who come here to drink and smoke. I sit down on one and he follows my lead, carefully making his way through the garbage strewn on the floor. He places his phone on his lap with the flashlight pointing upwards.  
  
  
“Y’know kitten, we may not agree on economics but we do agree on what’s important.”  
“And what’s that?”  
“Drugs, liberty and hentai.”  
“You forgot guns.”  
“Yeah and guns. Also, it must be so boring being a statist, like what do you rub one out to if you don’t have hentai?”  
“Genocide.”  
He laughs.  
“Fuck the statists,” he says  
“FUCK THE STATISTS.” I punch the air aggressively. He smiles at me fondly.  
“And that’s something I could drink on.”  
  
He pulls out a flask from his blazer’s pocket. Probably alcohol.  
“Ancap, you can’t handle alcohol. If you’re gonna drink at least let me drive? ”  
“You don’t have a driver's license kitten.”  
“And neither do you.”  
“But that’s because I chose not to have one instead of not being able to parallel park.”  
“Shut up. I can totally parallel park.”  
“Mmm sure kitten.”  
I grab the flask out of his hand and take a gulp. It burns down my throat.  
“God that’s fucking vile. Tastes really weird as well.” he laughs.  
“I probably mixed in cocaine or speed or something. Saves me time and time is money.”  
“Literally none of those drugs combine safely with alcohol.”  
“That’s true.”  
I take another sip.  
  
  
  
I give it back to him and he stows it back in his blazer. Only then I realise something about it.  
“Wait, this has your full name engraved in it. That’s so extra.”  
“You bet it is, baby.” he drawls.  
“God, you’re so fucking sleazy.”  
“Well, you don’t seem to mind, do you kitten?”  
“Shut up Ancap.”  
  
“Fuck it. I need something.” he rummages around in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.  
He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. His face momentarily lit up, the small flame reflecting in his glasses.  
“None of the statists take us seriously and that’ll be their demise.” he exhales a cloud of smoke.  
“Yeah. You’re not wrong.”  
“I bet you 250 bucks right now that they’ll come after us the moment Centricide is over. I mean I’m just some rich kid and you’re just a normal kid. We’re harmless but we’ll be there waiting. You’re so fucking scary Ancom and I mean that as a compliment and I’m filthy rich. I can probably cough up enough money for some anti-tank rocket launchers. Statists love their fucking tanks. You have no idea how much I was subjected to listening to that shit from Nazi.” he rambles in between the drags.  
“Tankie wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the T-34 or whatever it was called.”  
  
  


His face goes sombre. He only speaks a minute or two later.  
“Thank you Ancom.”  
“For what?”  
“For not being a crazy psycho.”  
“Honestly you’re not that bad Ancap. Thank you for actually taking me seriously and taking the non-binary shit seriously. You don’t know how much it means to me.”  
I stand up and walk over to him. I do my best to hug him from the side on, I tower over him for once and he still has his cig in one hand. He looks up at me and smiles at me softly. I think my heart is going to burst.  
“Who am I to dictate your self-expression kitten?”  
I lean down and my lips find his. I can taste the smell of cigarette smoke but it doesn’t bother me.  
“God, Ancap you may be a cappie but you’re fucking amazing. And that’s an understatement like holy shit.” and I can’t help but kiss him again. I can't get enough of him.  
  
  
  
  
After a cigarette or two, we leave and make our way back to the shed. The meeting has ended and everyone’s saying goodbye, we don’t really know when the next one will be really. Ancap is busy talking to someone, probably Posadist.  
Progressive approaches me.  
“Hey, I have some spare plants and pots. I overestimated how much space I have in my garden. Do you want to take them off my hands?”  
“Of course.” I beam at them.  
Together we load the seedlings into the back of his car. Basil, thyme, a sad cactus, chives, a singular pink Cyclamen and assorted potted colour. We place them in an empty crate that Progressive had sitting around so at least he won’t get dirt everywhere in his car.  
  
Ancap has noticed. I can feel his eyes zeroing in on us, even with sunglasses on and he walks over. He peers into the trunk and sighs in exasperation.  
“As long as you clean the car after?”  
“Yeah whatever babe.” and I grin at him.  
**  
  
  
**

**Ancap  
** Ancom is in a weird state as we drive home.  
“I can’t keep this up.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Ancapistan.”  
“I genuinely like living with you but I can’t just be fine with all this capitalism shit.”

  
  
I can feel my pulse creep up and I clench the wheel like a vice. I am scared shitless that they’re going to break up with me or something. We’re not even together, are we? Are we? It’s going to happen all over again. We never make it official, just always a thing in the background then when they’ve finished using me, I’m going to get left behind the dust. Then they deny it ever happened and I stand there like a fool with a broken heart. And that heart is speeding up. It’ll be just like Nazi, all over again. My brain is being bombarded with a flurry of anxiety-fueled barely coherent thoughts.  
  
“We need a compromise Ancap, like mutualism or an apartment somewhere not in Ancapistan or something. I know it’s your passion project but I hate Ancapistan. I want a garden and to breathe clean air. I want to work in a soup kitchen and go to riots. But I’d still want to live with you.”  
“I understand.”  
“Ancap?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I can tell you’re freaking out. I’m not ending what we have. I just want us to shift locations or work something out. You hate communism and I hate capitalism. We need a compromise. Think about it, Ancap, you can have your study filled with hentai manga and a large hardwood desk and I can grow pot in the back garden. I mean you started Ancapistan, there’s literally nothing stopping us from declaring a section of land as an enclave and start maybe starting Ancommune and then you won’t even have to move far from your friends. Why not start Ancommune but we don’t have to live in it. We can even get the Anprims” they ramble on, their eyes dreamy. Dreaming of communism.  
“Because I also hate taxes and the government and so on. What do you think babe?”  
  
  
  
The sheer panic in my chest ebbs a bit and I try to make a joke.  
“So that’s why you wanted the Anprims released.” and the joke falls flat.  
“Y’know what kitten? I’ll think about it.” I smile at them.  
“Eyes on the road moron.”  
They place their hand on my thigh and give it a squeeze in an attempt to be reassuring. I finally let myself relax slightly, my breathing starting to return back to normal.  
  
“Also some of your friends are fucking nuts.”  
“Yeah, they are. They’re either fash, red fash, wacky or just liberals. But I love them anyway.”  
“Some of the rules also sound nuts.”  
“Yeah, we’ve had a few fistfights break out. Me and Tankie once had a really bad one over Catalonia and I’ve fought with Naz over concentration camps before as well. There was also the time where Socialist was supporting electoralism. I know Bernie is cool and whatever but I couldn’t control my anger so...”  
“Naz was ready to beat the shit out of me.”  
  
“That’s normal. Wanna come next time.”  
I grin at them.  
  
“Sure why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter is alright. But I realised that I've nearly made character playlists on accident. So I made a spotify alt and actually made proper playlists.
> 
> Tankie: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6UVO10IkJx7u3SW5WikF5T?si=NTiJRg6KTdmJYz6Nu2k4VQ  
> Ancap: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6uMNnL15BqSMnptxHnPumG?si=63gUVl6lRcyR_e4d5xzgkw  
> Ancom: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1x7i4ZnHEahYhczunv3pCS?si=YfcpHQF-SByAKWg-XEEZrA  
> If you're interested and theres anything you reckon should go on the playlists, just comment it
> 
> Also this is the first time I've hit 20k words which is very epic and I'm very proud of myself


	10. Centricide 4.5 - Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning timing and so on, this chapter occurs a month or two after the Leftist meeting chapters. Yeah okay 2 months. 
> 
> Also there is mild misgendering coming up.

**Ancom  
** I sit in the dining room, absently stirring my coffee until Ancap waltzes through the room in an obvious rush. He looks extra dressed up today, an expensive knee-length coat over his yellow suit. It’s completely black from its fur collar to the hem.  
“Ancap, what’s the occasion?”  
He doesn’t respond so I stand up and run after him. By the time I manage to catch up with him, he’s at the front door and I grab his arm.  
“What the hell is going on?”  
“Quickly get dressed, sightings of the other extremists at Ancapistan’s gates.” his voice panicked.  
  
I dash up the stairs and quickly throw on my black hoodie and the tartan skirt. I eye up my bat and decide to grab it. Things might go nasty.  
We fling ourselves into his SUV, he presses down on the accelerator. I watch the needle in the speedometer go from 0 to 100km/h in roughly 4 seconds but Ancap manages to keep control of the car and manoeuvres it expertly.  
“You’ve done this before loads?”  
“Yep” replies curtly.  
  
The speed-o-meter climbs to 180km/h the moment we hit the highway. Ancap has his eyes glued to the road, a mix of steely determination but also fear. And then he finally speaks.  
“If the statists kill me, you can have my mansion. I won’t be upset if you let hobos move in.”  
“What the hell Ancap. You shouldn’t say that.”  
He doesn’t respond.  
  
  
  
Ancap spots the two other extremists and rapidly breaks, throwing me forward but luckily his car actually has seat belts. Probably because it’s a foreign import. We clamber out of the car. Then I realise how close he was to hitting the statists.  
“You could have fucking killed us, Kulak!”  
“I have a fantastic team of lawyers and a fashion coach for my court appearances, don’t worry. It’s happened before but anyway what are you all doing here outside Ancapistan?” He seems too confident. Like a switch has been thrown and he’s done a complete 180 in mood change.  
“I could ask you the same but it’s so nice to see you _guys_ . The princess and the pauper.” his mouth curls into an evil sneer. Ancap’s face goes stony the moment Nazi speaks. The false confidence drops quicker than the value of bitcoin. I don’t know exactly how stock markets work but that’s something he’d say. He reaches out for my empty right hand. I hold it and give it a squeeze for assurance.  
“Nice to meet you too, you worthless piece of fash shit.” I adjust my grip on the bat which is resting on my left shoulder.  
  
  
Tankie just looks at us in surprise.   
“Anarkiddie vhat are you doing vith the Kulak? Vhat are you doing in Anca-”  
Nazi interrupts him.  
“Look at the two love birds, it’s clear what he’s doing here in Ancapistan.” he sneers.  
“It’s they/them,” I say.  
  
“Tankie, you kicked me out. Where else was I meant to go?”  
“I don’t know but I’m very sorry. We couldn’t afford to feed another mouth. Please come back Anarkiddie?”  
“You fucking betrayed me. Again. I tried to fucking trust you.”  
  
  
Tankie turns to Ancap, his gaze cool and unwavering.  
“If you lay a finger on him, I vill…”  
Gone is Ancap’s stony demeanour. The cockiness is back instantly, his smug smile returning and all just to goad Tankie a bit more.  
“It’s they/them and don’t you get it, Commie? It’s over. You need to get over them. You’re so possessive over someone you aren’t even dating.”  
Tankie just stands there somewhat dumbfounded.  
  
  
“Vhy aren’t you saying anything Anarkiddie? Vhat happened to you? Vhat did the Kulak do to you? Vhy are you sympathising with him”  
“I realised I am a communist in my own right. I don’t need other communists. Especially not one that fucking betrays me, that fucking misgenders me, that fucking treats me like a child. Shut the fuck up about transitional states, shut the fuck up with your brocialist class reductionism, SHUT THE FUCK UP TANKIE. Left unity was always just a way to control leftist discourse, leftist unity under a single hegemonic Marxist Leninist party. FUCK YOU TANKIE. And then you’d have FUCKING SHOT ME.” Tankie doesn’t say anything, his face full of regret but he knows I’m right.  
“Please Anarkiddie? And it wasn’t me who killed Makhnovtchina. It vas Trotsky and I hate Trotskyists”  
“Don’t fucking care, you imperialist piece of shit. Go fuck the Nazi if you’re so lonely.”  
Nazi cringes, disgust splattered across his sharp facial features.  
“Y’know vhat Anarkiddie. Trotsky fucking deserved it! CNT FAI fucking deserved it! Makhno fucking deserved it! Robbing bandit. Traitor. Don’t forget the fucking Spanish labour camps and vhile you’re at it, reading some fucking theory. Ты шлюха.” he spits in his thick Russian accent.   
I can feel the anger boiling, rising to the surface. I adjust the grip on my bat and everything in me wants to take a swing at him. And I can tell it's mutual. His face is as red as his precious little Soviet flag.  
  
_  
_

But luckily Nazi steps in before something breaks out.  
“Since you degenerates are fucking finished crying about your queer shit. We now have to pass through Ancapistan. Let us through Ancap.” Nazi grins at us, it’s probably meant to put us at ease but it’s just unsettling. The smile of an evil shark ready to swallow us whole and without remorse.  
“Only if you pay the toll.” he drawls.  
“I vill wring your fucking necks”  
“Oh and talking about money, I just sold some weapons to the centrists. You can buy some to even it out if you want. Just a little recommendation.”  
“Let us fucking through Kulak.”  
Tankie breaks the line and steps towards us, his eyes glowing with anger.  
“I fucking said, LET US THROUGH KULAK!”  
Ancap laughs, his other hand in front of his mouth. His facade is nearly perfect from years of practice. Lying to clients, business meetings and doing cocaine in office bathrooms. And it’d fool me too but I can feel his rings biting into my hand and his sweaty palms.  
“Uh ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. There’s a recreational McNuke™ pointed right at you and y’know, commies aren’t people.”  
“Apart from vhen it’s fucking convient for you.”  
“Yes of course. Now pay up statists or I’ll to call my private police.”  
  
  
Nazi cringes and pulls out his wallet. He hands him a 20 dollar note. Ancap scoffs.  
“I’m sorry but that’s not enough. It’s 450 dollars per person but it’s 50% off if you have at least 5 child wives travelling with you.”  
“We’re not fucking paying that Ancap. Your child brides are ruining western values. They're too young to have white children and it’s ruining the sanctity of marriage. Ancap, I always knew you were morally bankrupt but this is too far.”  
“Nazi there is a McNuke™ right above you, I don’t think now is the best time to haggle.”  
“Just fucking pay the Kulak.” Tankie hisses at the Nazi.  
The money is exchanged and I can tell the statists are both ready to go completely ballistic.  
“Lovely.” Ancap lets go of my hand and quickly counts the money.  
“It looks like everything's in order but the next time I see you statists, I won’t hesitate to hit you with one of my cars.”  
  
  
  
They pay and we watch them leave. We climb in the car but Ancap doesn’t start it, he just stares out at the city. His mask falls, morphing from confidence to being crestfallen.  
We sit in silence for half a minute, admiring the (horrible) view of the factories.  
“Let’s go home kitten.” his voice downcast. 

  
  
When we hit the highway, he finally says something.  
“They’re perfect for each other.”  
“Who?”  
“Commie and Nazi.”  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
“I mean statists are all about power and control so there’s no way you can have a healthy relationship with them. Right unity, left unity: it will never work.”  
“Tankie was alright. I mean compared to Nazi. At least Tankie is capable of caring about people.”  
“Yep, you're right. I don’t think you’re aware of the full extent of Nazi’s shit.” he clenches the steering wheel a bit harder than usual.  
“Yeah.”  
“He fucking destroyed me. I had to get of that fucking house. Do you remember that big block of time where I wouldn’t leave my room and cried at everything? And when you or Commie asked why, it was always ‘Bitcoin this, Dow Jones that’.”  
“Yeah.”  
“That was Nazi.”  
The car goes silent.  
“Thank you for telling me that Ancap.” I know there’s more he’s not sharing but that doesn’t bother me. Not something he has to share if he doesn’t feel comfortable.  
  
His fingers adjust on the leather steering wheel, making sticky noises. The sound of leather and sweat.  
“We have to pull over.”  
  
  


**Ancap  
** I pull over the car in a rest stop at the side of the highway. Their lights glitter like little jewels in the dark and I can hear faint music. I step out of the car and lean on it with my arms on the roof. My legs are jittery and I take a deep breath to release any tension. My lungs fill with smog. It bites and my eyes start to water.  
First over the smog and then over everything that just happened. Thoughts and memories about Nazi creeping back into my mind. Not good thoughts but panic thoughts. Thoughts of the horrible shit he pulled. The sadistic fucking parasite and he played me like a fiddle just so he could maintain his reputation. So that he’d never be called out for being a 'degenerate' hypocrite while also getting what he wanted. His stupid fucking ethnostate.

And thinking of him taints everything else. Something deep inside me worries that Ancom might do what Nazi did, just leave me once we have Ancommune. They won’t fucking need me then. Never make it official and just fucking use me. They won’t fucking want me then. Do I even want my fucking self?  
Tears start running past my chin and onto my neck and I let them.  
  
But they were literally just holding my hand and also the past few months. Rationally I know that they’d never do that. They genuinely care about me and want me around. And it’s not their fault and they’ve done nothing but I can’t help it.  
  
The tears get too much so I take my sunglasses off and place them on the roof. I frantically wipe my face. I get tears and snot on my coat’s sleeve but I don’t fucking care. Least of my problems at the moment and I can get it dry-cleaned. I just stand there for another minute or so, staring at the cars passing on the highway while trying to dam the flow of tears.  
  
  
  
  
I climb back into the car.  
  
  
  
**Ancom**  
“You okay babe?” his face is red and puffy.  
He doesn’t say anything. Tears start rolling down his face.  
“I’m so fucking sorry Ancom. I’m really sorry.” His voice is heavy with guilt and tears but I have no clue what he’s apologising for.  
I lean over and give him a hug to the best of my ability.  
“You should probably get a therapist.” he doesn’t respond for a few seconds.  
“I’ll think about it but let's go home first Ancom.” and he composes himself quickly and starts the car.  
  
A few minutes later I realise.  
“Babe, your sunglasses?”  
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments but I can see his lip wobbling.  
“Don’t worry I can buy new ones. It’s all going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright. Look, everything is fine. Everything is good.” but it’s clear he’s just trying to convince himself.  
“Yes. Everything will be alright.”  
“Everything will be alright.” it comes out strained. **_  
_ **  
As we walk to the front door, he puts his hand in my free hand and I squeeze it.  
“Y’know what Ancap, we can binge watch some shit in bed and eat some takeaways.”  
“Yeah that sounds good.” his voice glum.  
  
  
I clamber into his bed, soft sheets and an even softer mattress.  
“Why is your room way nicer than mine?”  
“Master bedroom.”  
“And you call yourself an anarchist yet your bedrooms have hierarchy.” He gives me a small smile. I punt his body pillow out of the bed. It’s a scantily clad anime girl.  
“Sometimes I get lonely.” he cringes in shame.  
“Yeah, that’s how it is sometimes.”  
He climbs in next to me and snuggles into me, his head on my shoulder. He’s in his pyjamas and his hair is still damp from showering. It’s still slightly unusual to see Ancap dressed down but I welcome it. Sure he looks nice in his fancy suits but this is just straight up adorable.  
I grab his laptop and the Chinese food we ordered.  
“Why the laptop? We have a TV.”  
“It hits different also what do you wanna watch?”  
“Fair enough. Just choose something.”  
“The Lorax.”  
“God anything but the Lorax.” I choose a random anime instead. He sits up and already I miss having him close to me, touching me. He opens styrofoam containers filled with hot food on top of the sheets.  
“You’re gonna get that shit everywhere,” I say but he just shrugs.  
“These sheets will be washed anyway.”  
We just watch and eat in comfortable silence, punctuated by the sounds of people yelling in Japanese.  
“The food makes me grateful that Hoppean didn’t manage to deport the minorities.”  
“I’m glad he didn’t deport them ‘cause that’s racist as fuck.” he just shrugs in response.  
  
  


Three long episodes have passed, the food is all gone and he’s returned to his place on my shoulder.  
“Y’know they say I have no morals,” he says quietly, almost a whisper.  
“Yeah me too.”  
“No, you have morals Ancom.”  
“No. I’m only an ancom since it pleases my ego or my unique or whatever.”  
“That’s different. You choose to have no morals, everyone loves you but I know I have no morals. You were the only good person in the Centricide house. But everything I believe is completely contradictory, I make people slave away just for a few dollars and everyone hates me.” I pull him closer. I could tell him about the coerciveness of capitalism and wage-slavery but I know it’s the wrong time.  
“Read Stirner also you’re very wrong if you think everyone loves me.” his eyes look into the distance, at something that’s not there.  
“But I love you,” he says wistfully, I don’t think he’s realised what he’s said.  
“I love you too Ancap.”  
“Thank you.” and then he starts crying. He ends up crying himself to sleep in my arms. 

  
  


I wake up to cool air on my legs and I shiver. I’m still in Ancap’s bed but the duvet is completely gone. I sit up, my movements also waking him. And the bastard’s completely stolen the duvet but I can’t help but smile.  
“Good morning kitten,” he mumbles, rolling over to look at me.  
“You greedy capitalist cunt.”  
In response, he lifts up one end of the duvet and beckons at me.  
“It’s still warm under here.”  
I accept his invitation and join him. He wraps his arms around me.  
“Ancom can I ask you a question?”  
“Yes, but stop fidgeting.”  
“Uh, what are we?”  
“Like do you mean am I your boyfriend or girlfriend or joyfriend or partner or what?”  
He visibly relaxes.  
“Oh yeah, that’s what I meant.”  
“Partner.”  
He pulls me even closer and kisses me.  
  


“Also Ancap can I move my shit into your room.”  
“Do whatever you want. Might not be enough wardrobe space though.” he hums.  
“That’s what you get for buying so much random crap but at least your bed’s way nicer.”  
“Mmm shut up kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I can't do the emotions lmao but I hope the chapter is alright. This thing is nearing its completion. As in three or four more chapters but we'll see. Time reveals all things.
> 
> Me: hrm Ancapistan is somewhere in American  
> My last braincell: hrm today I will use only metric and english english instead of american english


	11. The return of the Nazbol - Chapter Eleven

**Ancom  
** I find him in his study, he’s spinning around in his chair while on the phone.  
“Anc-” he places his finger over his mouth, the universal gesture to be quiet.  
“Wait, sorry but we’ll have to continue the call at another time.” the person on the line replies.  
“Yeah, yeah I have to go, something urgent popped up.” he gives me a sly side smile and then hangs up. He spins around to face me.  
“What do you want kitten?”  
“Do you want to plant the plants we got from Progressive with me?” it's probably not what he was expecting.  
He looks at me like I’m mad but stands up.  
“Okay sure why not kitten. What do we need?”  
“Uh dirt, watering can and maybe a small shovel thing. Just show me to the gardening shed.”  
  
  
  
He leads the way, it’s located at the very end of the property. The lock is rusted and I struggle to get it open. I end up having to smash it.  
“How often do you go in here.”  
“Not all. I’ve been here once or twice since I bought the place. I mean I don’t need to since I just pay people to mow my lawns.” he looks a bit unsure.  
  
The door swings open. A particularly large cockroach scatters when the light touches it. The shed is very dim, light filters in from the cobwebbed windows and small leaves somehow have made it into the shed. Disgust ripples across Ancap’s face and he recoils.  
I look through the gardening utensils and hand everything to Ancap who’s waiting outside the shed. I note that there are bolt cutters and a big bag of fertiliser.  
  
I find the massive sack of unopened potting mix. It’s very hard to miss. Together we carry it to the poolside area and place it on the tiles. Ancap grumbles the whole way.  
I sit down and open it while he towers over me.  
“Come join me.” and he reluctantly sits down on the tiles.  
  
  
  
We spend the rest of the afternoon planting the seedlings. Ancap has no clue what he’s doing but after I nudge him in the right direction, he catches on pretty quickly.  
“This is actually pretty alright even though I have dirt under my fingernails and on my suit.”  
“Stop grumbling babe or I’ll start to believe you’ve never worked a day in your life.”  
“Says you.” he fires back smugly.  
“Actually you’re right. I don’t work and I'm against work. But I do labour.”  
“People won’t work unless incentivised by money. We are all greedy people, its human nature” he says as he pats the earth flat around the basil plant.  
“You’re literally working without payment right now. Also, remember what Marx said about material conditions…”  
“What did he say, kitten? Have you even read Marx?”  
I give him the finger and he gives me a self-satisfied grin.  
“Shut up Ancap, you can choke on my dick.”  
He just shrugs.  
“Doesn’t sound too bad if you ask me.”  
“You are the worst.” his smug grin grows even bigger.  
“Keep that shit up and I will have to kiss you and then I'll get dirt all over you kitten.”  
“Jokes on you, I’m not scared of dirt.”  
I try to give him my most menacing smile and slowly advance towards him with my grubby fingers stretched out. I can tell it falls flat when he just laughs.  
“If you get dirt on me, I will toss you in the pool.”  
“You can’t even bloody lift me.”  
“I literally have before when we did LSD. You wanna bet?” he puts the seedling he’s holding down.  
  
  
We both stand up and he tries to lift me bridal style. The first attempt fails.  
He succeeds the second time and I wrap my arms around his neck.  
“I’d romantically look into your eyes and shit but I’m wearing the sunglasses.”  
“Sucks to suck Ancap.”  
He gives me a soft kiss and then meanders to the edge of the pool.  
“I will throw you in.”  
“Do it. I fucking dare you.” and the thing is, I genuinely wouldn’t mind being thrown into the pool. I’m not even bluffing.  
But instead he steps back and gently puts me down. He brushes dirt off his suit quickly and then gets back to planting the seedlings. I join him.  
“I actually kind of liked that Ancap. Well I really liked that.”  
“Hmm I’ll remember that kitten.”  
  
  
  
We sink back into the repetitive task of planting the plants and my mind drifts. It drifts to the recent events with Nazi and Tankie and all that shit. To Ancap breaking down because of that fash piece of shit. I can slowly feel my blood starting to boil. I fucking hate fascists.  
“Ancap, I just had an idea.”  
“What?”  
“We should ruin Nazi’s life.”  
He looks up from the seedling he currently has a chokehold on.  
“What do you mean?”  
“We find the statists and beat the crap out of them.”  
“As much as I despise the stupid communist and the nazi, that’d violate the NAP kitten.”  
“I don’t give a shit about the NAP so you can just tag along and if they accidentally ‘violate’ your NAP, you can aggress.”  
“Okay but how are we going to find them?”  
“I don’t know but they’re probably on the other side of Ancapistan but outside of the city. And we just jump them and beat their fucking asses.”  
“Uh, I can’t actually fight unless it involves a gun and what if they pull out a gun?”  
“Then you can pull out your gun.”  
“This is not exactly a very thought-out plan.”  
“Let's just try it and see what happens.”  
He looks at me unsure and then places the seedling into the pot. He looks down at it, deep in thought.  
“I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  
  
  


The next day, we snake through the streets of Ancapistan until we get to the other gates. This is where Nazi and Tankie would have exited and Ancap checked to see if they had paid the toll to leave. They hadn’t so we still have a chance of catching them.

Ancap slows the car down to a crawl. This time it’s not the yellow Lambo since we decided that’d be a dead giveaway, it’s his black convertible with the sunroof up. We’d look really dodgy if it weren’t obvious that it’s a really expensive Jaguar.  
“Hey kitten, isn’t that our buddy Nazbol.”  
Around 50 metres away is the figure of a teen, wandering aimlessly. We can just see the person’s back but they’re definitely wearing an ushanka.  
  


“I hate fashs but we can’t just leave the kid by himself.”  
“Not my kid, not my responsibility.”  
“C’mon Ancap. Please, he's just a poor kid. He’s not like his dads.”  
“Alright. I guess. But if the others find out I have a kid in my house, I will never hear the end of it.”  
  
  
Ancap’s tinted window goes down slowly as we creep past the figure at walking pace. He was right, it was Naz. his head bowed and he’s oblivious to the world, in some of a dazed stupor.  
“Hey, kid.”  
Nazbol jumps, startled by the car and Ancap’s voice.  
“Piss off Kulak, what do you do want?”  
“Naz, what are you doing in Ancapistan? Where are your dads?” I lean towards Naz a bit so he can hear me.  
“They told me to fuck off. Told me I don’t make any sense and that they don’t fucking need me. That everything I just did was a fluke and then fucking discarded me.” his lip wobbles a bit and I can see tears starting to well up in his eyes.  
  
“Well hop in then. Looks like you’re not the only one who got discarded by the statists.” Ancap chuckles and I hear the click of the locking mechanism from the car doors. Naz wipes his face.  
“Why should I?”  
“If you look at it like this kid, you practically just got disowned or whatever and you’re lost in Ancapistan. I’m a rightist and kitten is a commie.”  
“Да but you are not very culturally right.”  
“Just because I’ve done gay shit and abuse cocaine doesn’t mean I’m a libtard. I say slurs all the time and one of my best friends is a racist.”  
“Oh really? How racist?” Naz’s dull eyes gain a bit of light and a small smile dances on his face.  
“Really really fucking racist,” I answer for Ancap darkly.  
“I’ll take the libtard’s word. I want to meet him.” he grins and opens the door to the back seat. He shuffles in and the car doors lock.  
  
  
“Uh, where exactly are we going.”  
“Naz we’re going to beat the shit out your dads.” he eyes up my bat on my lap.  
“Oh.”  
I twist myself so I can make eye contact with him.  
“The bat is only for if things get nasty.”  
  
“Got any idea where your parents are kid?” Ancap asks him.  
“Do I have a choice?”  
“Not really.”  
“They’re somewhere in a paddock outside of Ancapistan and they’re driving a grey car.”  
“Fantastic.” he gives me a gleeful smile.  
  
  
  
Ancap hits the gas, the car springs forwards like a wild cat. And soon we hit the highway out of Ancapistan. But it doesn’t last long as we’re forced to a crawl again as we approach the gates of Ancapistan. Toll booths successfully throttle the traffic to a sad trickle.  
“Ah fuck.” he runs his hand through his hair. It knocks off his hat. He doesn’t pick it up and starts to rapidly drum his fingers, his frustration obvious. I’m just so fucking bored.  
“Vhat’s going on?” Naz pipes up.  
“We’re going through the toll booths. This is so fucking pointless. The money literally goes to me anyway. I wish we had taken the helicopter, that’d have been so much faster.”  
“You’d have never found me and only I can find my dads for you.”  
“Yeah yeah whatever. I guess you’re correct.” Ancap’s frustration is rising by the second. It’s somewhat amusing how quickly he went from being scared of violating the NAP to being pissed off he can’t do it.  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, we manage to make it through the toll booths. The moment we make it through, he puts the convertible roof down and we speed down the highway in the direction of the rural paddock that Naz mentioned. The breeze assaults us but in the best way possible. Finally, my lungs are full of fresh and clean air. Something that really shouldn’t be a commodity. Naz’s ushanka is nearly blown off but luckily he catches it.  
“I think I’m going to have to make a VIP line for the toll booths in the future. What do you guys think about taking the helicopter home? I’ll just pay someone to pick up the car.”  
“I guess if we have to.” I grimace but Naz has different ideas.  
“Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, ve’re not taking the helicopter.”  
“I forgot you commies hated helicopters.” he laughs  
“Well it’s either sitting in the car for another half an hour or you can just suck it up and deal with a 10 minute flight. It’s your choice Nazbol.”  
“I would rather take the 30 minutes.”  
“Yeah sure. Tell me that when you realise you need to pee or something but you’re on a highway.”  
“Please Naz. It’s fucking terrifying but he’s not going to throw you out of the helicopter.”  
“Alright. Fine.” he turns to look at the passing fields and sulks.  
  
  
  
  
**Ancap  
** We drive through a small rural town. Nazbol has taken it upon himself to point out the directions even though I don’t need them, all thanks to the GPS. I am slightly worried that the statist has led us to our death. I mean it’s not exactly far fetched to think it’s a trap. It’s not really out of character.  
  
We pull up at the side of an empty rural highway, the gate of the paddock is wide open and I can see deep tire marks in the grass.  
I drive the car through and quickly park it, the adrenaline already kicking in. Ancom flings themself out of the car with their bat before it’s even fully stopped. I grab my beretta and baggie of some shit from the glovebox, quickly loading it and tucking it in my blazer. Nazbol doesn’t move from his seat, his arms crossed and the seat belt firmly secured. I open the trunk and grab my favourite AR-15, the body of the gun covered in anime girls doing the ahegao face.  
“Hey Naz you coming?” Ancom tries to coax Nazbol out, their voice soft.  
“Нет. And don’t fucking try. I am already a big enough traitor.” I just shrug.  
“Let’s go kitten and kick some statist ass.”  
They high five me.  
  
  
We wander the field for a couple of minutes and don’t find anything. The adrenaline starts to wear off so I sling the rifle over my back. Distracted by everything going on, I take a fatal step. I hear squelching. I look down and its cow shit. A perfectly round cow shit in the grass. My eyebrow is back at it again, twitching aggressively and everything in me just wants to fucking scream.  
  
But luckily Ancom manages to distract me.   
“HEY BABE I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING” they yell from the other side of the field.  
I walk over to where they’re standing, watching where I place each of my steps.  
They’re peering down at a pool of blood on the ground, it’s dark brown and congealed. I can’t help but shudder a bit.  
“God that’s fucking nasty.”  
“This is kinda useless since we don’t even know whose blood it is or what the fuck happened.”  
“Yep and I don’t think the commie wants to talk about it either but I’ll try later.”  
“I’ll call the chopper kitten.”  
  
  
  
Five minutes the chopper lands on the field, it’s rotors whipping up grass, gravel and most likely cow shit. I climb into the helicopter, Ancom follows me with only a small amount of hesitation. And then they, in turn, coax Nazbol, who looks extremely unsure and uncomfortable.  
The moment everyone is in and the door is shut, they nestle their face into my chest. I can’t help but smile. I wrap my arms around them.  
“I don't want to see shit. I fucking hate helicopters babe.” I chuckle and rub their back.  
“Yeah, I know kitten.”  
  
  
“Hey Naz, what happened in the field?” their voice comes through muffled. One of my hands travels to their curls. Nazbol just looks at us with clear disgust.  
“I do not want to talk about it.”  
“Please Naz?”  
“Nein.”  
“Pretty please?”  
“Fucking fine. They summoned me to fight the horseshoe centrist. I finished him and then they told me to fuck off and get lost.” he huffs.  
  
Per my instructions, we fly relatively low over Ancapistan in hopes that we might spot the grey car. But we’re still way too high to ever spot it plus the statists haven't gone through Ancapistan to our knowledge anyway. Also we don’t even know the model or the make.  
“Hey, why don’t we just get them when they leave Ancapistan? Pay someone to tell us?”  
“That might just work kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to Fanboyisyransboy for the idea of beating the shit out of them. Violence is always the answer


	12. Rothbard forgive me - Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One use of the F slur. Shit gets wild

**Ancom**  
Ancap miraculously convinced me to go to poker night at Hoppean’s house. He was also feeling particularly extra today so he managed to convince me that we should wear colour coordinated outfits. He’s digging through one of his massive wardrobes. They’re full of so much crap and it’s astounding how someone could accumulate so much shit in a singular lifetime.  
“You have so much clothes. I can’t believe you actually wear all of it.” he chuckles.  
“No, I don’t wear all of it.”  
“That’s really wasteful.”  
“Yeah, and?” smugness permeates his voice.  
“Stinky capitalist.”  
“Also you should wear the skirt.”  
“Creepy pervert.”  
“Hey, it’s not creepy to think you look nice in it.”  
I do end up wearing it, my black hoodie and the bandana. And Ancap in the black coat, a black suit and a yellow feather boa. Turns out colour coordinating just meant lots and lots of black.

Just as we’re about to leave the house, Naz locates us.  
“Vhere are you going?”   
Ancap turns around slowly, looking sophisticated as ever.  
“We’re going to Hoppean’s place for poker night kid.”  
“I really want to meet Hoppean, can I go? Please?” he implores.  
Ancap looks at me.  
“Yeah Naz you can come.”  
We mill around waiting for him to put his mismatched shoes on. I think me and Naz are going to be underdressed for poker night but fuck the bourgeois. I dress as I please. 

  
**Ancap**  
We clamber out of the car at the building where Hoppean’s penthouse is. Turns out our timing was perfect as I see one of Libertarian’s cars pull up.

“Hello, old champ.”  
He hugs me while the others just mill around.  
“Good to see you Libertarian. How are you doing?”  
He doesn’t get the opportunity to reply.  
“Hey, is he the racist.”  
Libertarian laughs.  
“Who's your new friend?”  
“Naz. He’s Nazi’s and Tankie’s kid. We found him wandering in Ancapistan.” Ancom answers for me.  
“A commie?” Libertarian cringes.  
“Watch it kulak or you’ll catch these ‘commie’ hands.” Naz glowers at him.  
“Well let’s go, we have lines to do and poker games to win.” I interrupt before another fight breaks out.  
  


The elevator stops at the top floor. Hoppean’s apartment.   
When we walk in, Minarchist is already there. He's sitting on the black leather sofa with baggies next to him. In place of where the coffee table usually is, is the poker table. Giving anyone sitting at the left side of the table, amazing views over Ancapistan thanks to the massive glass windows. I admit it’s a really nice apartment even though it’s not really to my taste.   
  


“Hey, guys. Help yourself to the liquor cabinet also I brought coke and speed.” he beams at us four, waving one of the baggies. Libertarian makes a beeline straight to the liquor cabinet and I grab a baggie of something and sit down at the table. Everyone else follows my lead, Ancom to my left and Minarchist to my right.  
“You arrived early, Minarchist?”  
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I stayed the night.”  
I raise my eyebrow and start to fashion a line with my credit card. Enough lines for me and Ancom.   
“Interesting. Well just remember to invite me to your wedding.”  
“Shut up Ancap.”  
He elbows my arm, my credit card skitters across the mirror and ruins the line I was working on

“Hey Minarchist, where’s Hoppean?” asks Libertarian, placing his glass on the table.  
“No clue, he’s just getting some shit. Also, who’s the kid?”  
“Hi I am National Bolshevik but you can just call me Nazbol or Naz for short. Culturally right and economically left.”   
“Well welcome to poker night. Do you want some coke or alcohol? We have plenty to go around.”  
“Нет. I will not engage in degeneracy. I just want to meet the racist.”   
“C'mon a glass of whiskey won't hurt. I know commies love to drink. Plus it's not like we have a drinking age anyway.”  
“Nein. I said I am fine, you cappie.”  
Minarchist puts his hands up in mock surrender and laughs cheerfully.   
“Sorry.”   
  


By the time, Hoppean arrives, me and Ancom have snorted the lines I've made.  
“Sorry I was late.” he looks as dishevelled as ever, massive bags under his eyes and his back hunched over.   
“Late to your own party.” My little joke earns me a chuckle from Minarchist and a glare from Hoppean.   
“Well let’s get started then.”  
  


**Ancom**  
For the first round, I play with Ancap. I hold the cards while he points at the card with his right hand, his left hand sitting comfortably on my thigh where the skirt rises up. It feels like fire on my skin every time one of us moves. It’s even worse since he’s leaning over towards me, his face dangerously close to mine and his feather boa occasionally shedding yellow feathers which stick to my hoodie. I literally just want to get out of here and spend some alone time with him and I can barely think about the poker.   
It’s the only round I win. And then for the rest of the evening, I spend my time getting completely destroyed by Ancap and Libertarian.   
  


We stop at 7pm for dinner. It's a selection of finger food. Things like little strips of salmon on thin crackers, a cheese platter and expensive little sandwiches. Hoppean and Naz are having a lively discussion about crime rates which I don’t have the energy to interrupt and the other three are standing in the open kitchen talking about some business crap. I drift up to them and Ancap lets me into their circle.  
  


“No offence but I didn’t know Hoppean could cook. It tastes really good.”  
Minarchist just starts laughing and Hoppean glares at me.  
“Yeah, you’re right. He can’t cook. I was staying over and he realised that he didn’t actually have anything to feed you guys so I had to whip up something last minute.”   
“You don’t want to see Hoppean cook,” mumbles Libertarian as he lights his pipe.   
“Yeah. I still remember the time he waited too long to put the meatballs in the pan so the oil ignited and whoosh, caught on fire. Let me tell you, the meatballs tasted a bit funny after that.”  
“Shut the fuck up. Women belong in the kitchen, not fucking me.”  
“Well pal, looks like you’ll have to get a wife or pay someone.”  
“Shut the fuck up.” he bares his teeth at us but Minarchist just puts his arm around Hoppean’s waist.  
“Calm down Hoppean, it's okay. We all love you.”  
“Yeah, yeah. I guess,” he grumbles, the anger residing.   
  


Sooner or later, the conversation drifts back to business talk so I walk to the massive glass windows. My stomach lurches as I peer over to get a better view. Below me are the broken streets of Ancapistan filled with tiny cars and even tinier people. I carefully place my hands on the glass but I’m far too scared to put any weight on it at all. The fair of crashing through the glass, no matter how thick it is and splattering on the pavement below.  
I hear steps behind me, muffled by the carpet and then a familiar pair of arms wrap around me.  
“I thought you were scared of heights?”  
“I’m fucking terrified right now.” and I mean it.  
“Well, I got you kitten.” I lean back into his chest.   
We stand there for a few minutes, comfortably looking out at the disgusting city below us.  
  


We spend the rest of the evening playing poker again minus Naz and Hoppean who are pouring over thick novels on the sofa. Discussions about IQ and curves float over to the poker table, where Ancap is winning again.

 **Nazbol**  
“Hoppean?”  
He looks up from one of his books.  
“Yes?”  
“Can I privately talk to you?”  
  


He leads me into his office, just like the dining room it has windows from the ceiling to the floor offering a great view of the now sinking sun. combine that with the furniture and knick-knacks, its bourgeois decadence at its finest. The familiar and itching need to purge the gulags comes back again.  
“What is it commie?”  
“I am culturally far right, you are culturally far right. I don’t want to live with the stupid anarkiddies even though I really like the libtard. Can I move in with you?”  
“Do you know what I think of commies? We throw them out of helicopters.” he leans over menacingly but I’m not fucking scared. I have the power of Stalin and Hitler on my side.  
“Да you do but vell as lovely the libtard is, him and the kulak won’t stop with the degeneracy. And I can’t handle living around people that degenerate.”  
“Well I am also degenerate so you shouldn’t move in with me. I am in a homosexual relationship. But it’s okay because of the state of modern females. They have completely degenerated and are not carrying their burden.”  
“Да. That is true and I really admire how you place being racist before profit. Please I really do not want to live with the libtards. I always get lectured on racism. Please?” I do my best puppy dog eyes at him.   
“Fine.” he gives me a small smile.   
I fling my arms around him and hug him. He pats the top of my head.  
“You’re going to have to let go of me.”  
  


I march back into the dining room and clear my throat. Everyone stops to look at me.  
“I am moving in with Hoppean.”   
Ancap places down his cards, face down before answering.  
“I assume that’s fine with everyone? Ancom? Minarchist? Libertarian?”   
They all say yes. Minarchist beams at me but Ancom looks a little bit upset.   
“Ancom! I’ll still visit you all the time! The bourgeois von’t hang themselves!”  
  


**Ancap**  
Before I get to say anything else, my phone goes off. I pick up and when I realise what it’s for, a grin spreads across my face.  
“Sorry guys, me and Ancom have some business to attend to.”  
I stand up quickly and march out, not before grabbing the baggie. A confused Ancom is on my tail.  
The elevator doors close and it starts to move downwards.  
“Wait what the fuck is going on?”  
“The statists and we’re taking the helicopter.”

  
The helicopter lands a hundred metres from the toll booths in a gravel parking lot. In the distance, I spot the lone hulking figure of Commie, lit up by the bright fluorescent lights but otherwise, it’s pitch black. Ancom hasn’t noticed him yet, they’re too busy throwing up.  
I don’t have the rifle but I do have my Beretta in case shit hits the wall plus Ancom can probably throw a decent punch. They riot all the time after all.  
  


**Ancom**  
“I see the commie, let’s go kitten.”  
Ancap’s voice brings me back to earth. I glance down the parking lot and see him. Fucking Tankie. My eyes narrow and I stomp my way over to the toll booths, my speed increasing until I nearly break into a run.   
Ancap jogs after me, the feather boa swinging wildly and shedding even more feathers. In the corner of my eye, I see him pull out his gun and load it.

  
  
His face is brutally cold and he glares down at me. Ancap stands behind me and I can hear him fidgeting with his gun. It makes me nervous. I’m worried he might accidentally misfire but it’s also comforting knowing he has my back.  
“Have you come to apologise you, traitor?”  
“If anyone deserves the apology, it’s me.”  
He laughs, it’s a cruel harsh sound.  
“You are the original traitor and you silly anarchists have nothing against the power and the might of the soviet union.”  
  


I swing at him. He dodges and swings back at me. I feel pain blossom along my jaw and hear Ancap wince. But he can’t do anything because of the cursed NAP.  
Tankie shoves me out of the way and lunges at Ancap. The man with the gun. I stumble but manage to right myself. My fingers long for the familiar feel of my bat but it’s not there. My phantom limb.   
Ancap, in turn, aims his gun at Tankie’s head. Out comes Tankie’s gun and he points it at Ancap.   
  


It feels like forever. The two men glaring at each other, down the barrel of their guns. Waiting for the first person to shoot, knowing that they’ll both go down in a hail of bullets if they do.

“Y’know Commie I said that if I ever met you again, I'd hit you with my car.” his voice wobbles for a second but is quickly drowned out with smugness.  
“Shut up Kulak before I put a bullet through your skull.”  
“I’d like to see you try Commie,” he smirks. It just further enrages Tankie.  
“Your NAP can’t fucking protect you.”  
“What are you going to do? Starve me?” he’s positively beaming.  
“I’ll fucking gulag you and your little fucking friend.”  
“Oh, you bet they’re my little friend.”  
“You are just like every other anarchist. I will rip your spine out, you weak little coward.”  
“Well fuck around and find out what I can do.”  
  
  


I let him distract Tankie. The oaf can’t see me and it won’t be long till he forgets about me. He never took me seriously, he’s not going to start now. I’m just a little weak anarchist after all.

I pounce. I grab Tankie around the waist and try to throw him down. It actually works but his weight pulls me down with him. He pulls the trigger at Ancap. The gravel tearing at my legs. Blood on my shins. Blood on my hands. Blood on my knees.   
  
  


The shot rings out.  
  
  


The shot grazes his face. The sunglasses’ right arm disintegrate. They hang onto his face for a brief second, lopsided. And then they fall off.  
  
  


I smoosh his face into the gravel. He struggles against me. His large hands reach out for me. They find me. He throws me down into the gravel.   
He’s suddenly on his knees, looming over me. His hands around my throat. I look up at his bloodied face. Every feature painted with murderous rage. I kick out at him. His fists rain down on me, one of them hits my nose.  
  
  
But it ends just as fast as it begins.  
  


“Shows over buddy. Let them go.”  
Ancap stands over us both. A glinting smile. The feather boa. The gun resting on the back of Tankie’s head.  
I feel the pressure on my throat ebb and stand up. I see an open window and launch my leg right into his gut. My steel-capped boots hit home. He hunchs over and his face contorts in pain.  
And Ancap just lets me.   
“That’s for Naz you monster.”  
“That’s for all the times you treated me like a fucking child.”  
“Maybe you’ll fucking respect me now.”  
“THAT ONE WAS FOR SPAIN.”  
“AND FOR THE FREE TERRITORY.”  
“AND FOR CHINA.”  
I pummel Tankie a couple of times until I get sick of it. He fucking disgusts me. Fascist bootlicker piece of trash. I spit on him.  
  


“Okay, I’ve had enough.”  
“Well let’s go then kitten. But one last thing Commie, where is the Nazi?”  
“He’s dead. I saw him dying.” he croaks.  
“I don’t believe you. You better not be fucking lying.”  
“I am telling the truth. You are too much of a coward to shoot me anyway.”  
  


The gun cracks again. Red starts to splurt out of Tankie’s leg from the hole in his thigh.   
“Consider this a gift Commie.”

We leave and make our way to the helicopter. Ancap walks backwards, his gun trained on Tankie still.   
  
  
  


The moment the helicopter door is closed, he puts the gun away. I feel him pull me into his arms and onto his lap. My blood smears on his pristine shirt. At least my nose has stopped bleeding.  
“I’m sorry about the blood Ancap.”  
“I don’t give a shit.” and he kisses me.   
“Fuck I’m so sorry kitten. I should have done more and your nose.” his voice panicky.   
I start to feel the adrenaline slowly subside. The pain returns and it’s a harsh throbbing in my face.  
“We have to get you to a doctor.”   
“No, no, no. I’ll be fine.”  
“No, you’re not fine.”  
“I’ve broken my nose before. I was fine.”  
  


When we get home, he makes me sit on the sofa with the icepack on my face. My face is starting to swell up.  
“Are you sure we don’t need to go to the doctor.” he’s still in his bloodied suit and boa.   
“No, it’s okay. It’s just a broken nose Ancap. I’ve gotten in worse in fights before. This time I didn’t actually break anything. Well like real bones.”  
He lets out a concerned grumble and sits down next to me. His arm goes around my shoulder. I wince as my body is still tender.  
“Sorry kitten.” remorse flashes across his face and he removes it.  
“I’d be really mad if someone broke my nose. Like enraged,” he adds.  
“That’s because you’re a posh bourgeois swine babe.”   
“And you’re a stinking domestic terrorist. Also kitten, I have some fireworks lying around somewhere. Do you want to light them and have a few drinks later?” he looks at me softly.   
“Sure why not.”  
I lean over and give him a kiss  
  


I follow him into the kitchen later. I’ve had a good bath and my tender body has thanked me for it. He rummages around for a bit and pulls out some champagne flutes.  
“We don’t actually have any champagne at the moment but we do have cognac, bourbon, whiskey, gin, loads of wine and grappa. What do you want.”  
“The grappa sounds interesting.”  
He grabs the bottle and slowly pours the clear liquid into the flutes. I take mine and we clink glasses.  
“Cheers kitten. One less statist.”  
“Cheers. Bella ciao.”  
He takes a pretty large sip.  
“I mean Commie isn’t dead but he’s pretty much out of action. We sent him a clear message.”  
“That’s true plus we’re only just beating the shit out of them.”  
  
  
I take a sip. It’s fucking vile and smells like nail polish remover. It burns all the way down my throat and my face scrunches up. He laughs.   
“God that’s fucking horrible Ancap. How do you manage to enjoy that?”  
“I don’t but it gets me pissed really fucking fast.”  
“That’s not exactly hard,” I mutter.   
“Hey shut up kitten,” he says softly, his mouth quirking into an adoring smile.  
  


We grab the bottle and the fireworks and head outside. I place the box of fireworks on the tiles by the pool and open it. Inside is a buffet of brightly wrapped fountains, comets and other things I don’t know the name of. In the corner of my eye, I see Ancap take a sip from the bottle.  
  


He wanders over to me.  
“Y’know kitten, they’d never be legal in America. Also Nazi isn’t dead. Commie was lying.”  
He watches me take one out and place it on the ground. I free the fuse from the paper.  
“How do you know?” he walks away from the thing, bottle in hand. And I join him after I light the thing.  
  


“There was a pool of blood but no body.”  
Greens and reds whistle into the sky. He takes another sip.  
“Maybe the cows ate it.”  
“Cows don’t eat bodies.”  
“How would you know babe?”  
He watches me light another one and I see him take another sip.  
“Maybe someone picked it up?”  
“I don’t think anyone likes him enough to look for his body.”  
“Hmm guess you’re right kitten.”

  
  
By the time, we’re done with the fireworks, Ancap is very giggly. His face is flushed and his hat slightly askew. There is literally nothing I want more than to kiss the living shit out of him and I think it’s mutual. His fingers snake through my hair and fidget with my hoodie strings. But otherwise, he’s trying his best not to touch me even though I really know he wants to. And I really want it too as well.  
“God… Ancom you’re so fucking gorgeous. Even though your face is very bruised.”  
“You’re not too bad looking either, babe.”  
“Yeah I know,” he smirks and kisses me.  
“C’mon let’s go to bed.”

I grab his hand and he follows me to bed like a puppy dog.  
  
  


**  
Nazbol - 2 weeks later**  
I throw my school bag onto the leather sofa. As much as I hate school, it feels good to finally have some stability. Being looked after by someone who isn’t completely dysfunctional and also lets me buy as many CS:GO skins as I want.  
A man in the kitchen turns around. I panic a little bit when I see who it is. Nazi.  
“Nazbol. I missed you.” he gives me a cruel smile. I stand there frozen to the ground.  
“Fuck off and vhat the fuck are you doing here?”  
“Oh, I was just visiting. Hoppean let me in.”  
“Get the fuck out of here Nazi. Verpiss dich.”  
“No, no. It’s either ‘father’ or ‘dad. What happened to your love for family values?”  
“Fuck off. Please leave me alone.” I hear my voice break.   
“Nazbol. Please come home. We made a league of Nationalists and I’ll even let you join. Uncle EcoFascist misses you so much.”   
“Fuck you plus I can just call him on Zoom.”"  
  


At that moment, Minarchist and Hoppean walk into the lounge, deep in conversation.   
It stops abruptly as soon as Minarchist notices what’s up.  
“What the hell are you doing here? Leave the kid alone.”   
He crosses his arms, his friendly face transforming into a death glare.   
“Hoppean let me in plus I came to take my child home.”  
“Did you come to my house to steal my private property? You told me you just wanted to chat about race and IQ.” Hoppean bristles with rage.   
“No, no, no. He’s my child, not yours. Just let me take him home. I don’t want any trouble.”  
I feel Minarchist place his hand on my shoulder.  
“Nazi I’d get out of here if you knew what is good for you. Y’know what Hoppean does to socialists.”   
“I’m not even a socialist. It was just an embarrassing phase. Can we please just forget it and move on? And then I can take the real socialist off your hands…”  
  


A blood-curdling bellow comes from Hoppean as he launches himself onto the Nazi. He pins him to the fridge, his fingers around his neck. They tighten, his knuckles white. Nazi starts to splutter, gasping for breath. He desperately claws at Hoppean’s hands.  
  


Hoppean removes one of his hands, the other still rests on his throat and starts pummeling the shit out of him. One punch after another while we just watch. I feel Minarchist’s grip on my shoulder tighten but not in a bad way. I feel safe. I actually feel like I have someone on my side. And it’s coming from the place I least expect it from, a kulak.  
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Stop. I’ll leave.” he cowers underneath Hoppean. But Hoppean ignores it, deafened and blinded by pure rage and blood lust.   
Minarchist lets go of me and manages to pull him off. Hoppean grabs frantically for Nazi who drops to the ground. His face is a bloody pulp.  
“Sweetie, calm down.”  
Even though defeated, Nazi can’t help but let out one last laugh.  
“Degenerate faggots.”  
“ARGHHHHHH DON’T TALK ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND LIKE THAT.” the rabid dog flails, trying to break free and out of Minarchist’s grasp. But Minarchist is stronger than he looks and manages to hold him back.  
  


  
When Hoppean manages to calm down we get Nazi out of here. Minarchist shoves the limping man into the elevator while Hoppean rests his antique rifle pointed at the back of his head.  
“Next time you come on my private property, you’ll get one in between the eyes. Don’t fucking tread.” Hoppean hisses.   
Minarchist reaches into the elevator and presses a series of random numbers.  
We watch the elevator doors close. Minarchist pats my ushanka.  
“God I could go for a KFC™ right now. Want some Naz?”  
  
  


**Ancom**  
My phone rings. The caller ID says Naz so I pick up instead of ignore it like normal.  
“Hey, libtard. Nazi’s in Ancapistan. He just tried to kidnap me but Hoppean beat the shit out of him.”  
I nudge Ancap next to me.  
“Hmm?” he’s splayed out on one of the sofas in the entertainment room with me. I’m stoned as fuck while he’s clacking away on his laptop. We originally were meant to work on Ancommune together but we both got really sidetracked.  
“Naz found the fasho.”  
He takes my phone.  
  


“Wait are you kidding.”  
Naz replies but I can’t hear it.  
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah. Well, that’s fantastic.” he hangs up and puts his laptop on the table. He puts his hat back on but the sunglasses stay there, sitting on the glass table. Maybe it’s because they got destroyed last time something like this happened. I chuckle to myself.  
“Let’s go kitten.”  
  


We climb into the black car and I still have my blunt sitting comfortably between my two fingers. The car springs into motion and we speed through the streets of Ancapistan at dangerous speeds.  
  


When we make it to the apartment where Naz leaves, we spring out of the car. Ancap grabs his AR-15 and I just stumble along behind him. My brain is fried and my body feels completely numb.  
I follow him into dark alleys and around dumpsters filled with stinking refuse. I think we wander for half an hour until he finally gives up. His mouth set in a hard line.  
“Fuck it kitten.” he sighs.

  
The car pulls into the drive-thru at McDonald’s. I protest but my stomach quickly gives in. He orders a coke for himself and then two happy meals for me.  
“What gender toy?” the lady asks. He looks over at me.  
“Gender is a spook… an abstraction… a geist. I am a gender anarchist. Your labels don’t define me.”  
“One boy's toy and one girl’s toy please,” replies Ancap.

I unwrap the cheeseburger and tear into it like I’m a starving African child. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life. God.   
We continue to drive through Ancapistan.  
“Kitten, I’m going to do one last look for him but he could be anywhere. Hobos squat in houses all over the place for example.”  
“Yeah sure… doesn’t bother me.”

  
  
“ANCAP!” I point at a familiar figure on the road. I could recognise that military uniform and cap anywhere. He takes a deep breath.  
“Rothbard forgive me for what I’m going to do, violate the NAP.” he mutters.  
He picks up his coke, swirls it quickly. The ice clinks. He takes a short sip. His eyes narrow. The foot presses down onto the gas pedal. The needle on the speedometer flicks up to 250km/h.  
  
  
  


  
Thunk.  
Thunk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha nazi go splat
> 
> 30k words. That's a lot of damage uwu
> 
> Lmao the next chapter is way way shorter compared to this essay


	13. Ancommune - Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short as fuck compared to the other ones but I mean the other chapters have been essays

**Ancap** **  
** Summer is coming and it announced it’s arrival today. Soaring temperatures and the sun glaring down upon us but thank god for air-con.  
The moment trading hours end, I hunt down Ancom.  
“Hey kitten, you want to finally try out the pool?”  
“Yeah sure, don’t have a swimsuit though.”  
“You can probably borrow something from me.”  
  
Water droplets land on me after they launch themselves into the water, their t-shirt clinging to them. They said it was making them dysphoric just wearing men's swimming trunks so we dug out an old t-shirt from somewhere.  
I shy away from the pool.  
“Not on my suit you asshole.”  
“Sucks to suck. Come join me” they grin mischievously. **  
** “Not happening.”  
“I will drag you in babe.”  
“In your dreams.”  
I disappear inside the house to make myself a drink. I contemplate joining them, it’s so bloody hot and the water is so cold. Also Ancom…  
I also grab my old copy of the New Libertarian Manifesto. Usually, I’d replace the thing but it’s a signed copy. Konkin himself signed it for me.  
  
  
**Ancom** **  
** He drifts back to the pool with a cocktail. He’s wearing a beige suit and looks very summery.  
“Join me Ancap.” he takes a sip and lies down on the pool lounger. He flips open his tatty book and looks at me over the top of his sunglasses.  
“I’ll think about it.”  
“Also you look like a country club cunt.”  
“So what?” he shrugs smugly. I chill at the poolside with my elbows on the edge.  
“When the revolution comes, you’ll be the first to go unless you get in the damn pool.”  
“That’d violate my NAP.”  
“Revolutions are self-defence so the NAP says it's okay.”  
“Maybe later kitten.” he purrs. **  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**Ancap  
** I flop the folder with the plans on the glass table. The rest of the gang all look at me. Libertarian picks it up and skims through it, look at maps of planned developments and printed out spreadsheets. He passes it onto Minarchist who quickly flips through this.  
“So Ancap, what exactly is this?” Libertarian’s brows furrow.  
“Me and my business partner have started a little project of our own called Ancommune.”  
Hoppean fletches his teeth.  
“So how is this going to work?” asks Minarchist.  
“So we create it as an enclave and a commune. We abolish private property, we switch to mutual aid, so a gift-based economy. And then we give the surplus to those living in Ancapistan.” Ancom pipes up.  
I pick up from where they left off.  
“Surplus produce and manufactured goods are then given to Ancapistan. Companies snatch these up thus gaining free capital and then can sell these goods further. They would be financially incentivised to protect Ancommune due to the aforementioned stuff thus forming a symbiotic relationship.”  
“I really don’t like communists,” states Libertarian.  
“Well, I don’t like capitalists.” Ancom fires back.  
“Also what happened to bros before hoes?” Minarchist pipes in.  
“Well I’m listening to both ‘bros’ and ‘hoes’,” I say diplomatically, trying my best to make sure an argument doesn’t break out.  
“Ancap, even though this is well thought out, I can see you put a lot of effort into this, I am extremely conflicted about it,” says Libertarian and Minarchist nods in agreement.

  
Hoppean finally says something.  
“Ancap throw the fucking degenerate out of your helicopter.” he’s bristling and so is Ancom. I can feel cold rage welling up next to me so I lean over and whisper in their ear.  
“Let’s not go apeshit, we need to keep them on our side.” they grimace and nod. I rub my hands together.  
“Hoppean that’s not happening plus it’d violate the NAP.” I give him my best smile.  
“Killing commies doesn’t fucking violate the NAP.”  
“So what? You’d still be violating my NAP by kidnapping someone on my private property. I mean you grabbed Ancom, what if I’m the next person to get kidnapped? I might have to protect myself then...” and I shrug nonchalantly.  
  
“I know you guys all hate me but we’d be taking in the Anprims which means they’ll stop attacking your factories.”  
“Yes exactly, thank you Ancom, I forgot to mention that. This is a win-win for everyone and you’d be a fool not to accept it.” I stand up to get glasses and the whiskey.  
  
  
When I come back, they’re arguing which isn’t surprising. Hoppean and Ancom are ready to beat the shit out of each other.  
I interrupt them.  
“So who’s in or out.”  
“Well, I guess I'm in but if I don’t see profits in five years, I’m out.” grumbles Libertarian.  
Minarchist nods in agreement.  
“Me too.”  
We all look at Hoppean.  
“I will think about it.” he’s fucking fuming.  
And then we drink on it.  
  
  
  
When they leave, Ancom lets out a sigh of relief and wraps their arms around me. They go on their tippy-toes and give me a kiss.  
“We fucking did it Ancap.” their eyes sparkling with joy.  
“Well apart from Hoppean,” they add.  
“The moment Hoppean sees the money pooling in, he will jump on the train. I can promise you that” and I seal that promise with another kiss. They're grinning like mad.  
“Let’s go for a swim.”  
I look outside, it’s completely dark.  
“You sure?”  
“You heard me Ancap,” they smirk and go and quickly disappear outside into the dark. I have no choice but to follow them.  
  
They’re stripping down to their underwear at the side of the pool.  
“What the hell are you doing?”  
“Join me Ancap.”  
“No. I’m not going swimming in my clothes.”  
“C’mon rich boy. Scared of the water?”  
“Alright if you insist.” I roll my eyes at them but I'm two parts nervous and one part excited. And it shows.  
  
I take off my sunglasses, expensive watch and blazer and chuck them onto a poolside lounger.  
“You’re taking too bloody long Ancap.”  
I kick my shoes off and start unbuttoning my shirt. They walk up to me and unbuckle my belt. I can feel the heat rising and travelling up to my face. I can’t help but wrap an arm around them and press them even closer to me. I kiss them.  
  
They pull me into the pool, I stumble and fall in with them, my trousers still around my ankles. We hit the water with a large splash. They look magical when they come up for air, the lights from the pool illuminating them from below. I kiss them again, my fingers threading through their damp hair. I try to kick off my trousers. They laugh. It rings out, pure and melodic. Completely intoxicating.  
  


And in that moment, I realise that in the last few months I’ve acquired something that I can't buy: love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had nothing better to do so more playlists:
> 
> Posadist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0aHnyxKLXI3XlRnROHr4vG?si=HDjCEFQdSSe6_imiHZCbMQ (only half an hour long since for some reason its hard to find songs about nuking shit)  
> Homonationalist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZTGeCC9MF89worMFpVNfS?si=6t1rIDvSSzquBidBdX7PNA
> 
> The ones for Ancap, Tankie and Ancom are in the end notes of chapter 9 if anyone wants them


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is very short but I guess thats how epilogues work n shit

**Ancom  
** I bust open the front door. I’m sweaty, filthy and dirty but I feel satisfied. Happy and fulfilled after a day of long work in Ancommune. Well, it wasn’t long, it was just a couple of hours but it was tough work.  
As I step inside, the AC washes over me. I chuck off my boots and try my best not to get dirt all over the carpet. And then I hear footsteps.  
“Hey kitten home already?” he’s holding what I assume is whiskey or something and he’s grinning like mad. He places the glass down on the nearest surface, slides up to me and cups my face. I get a soft kiss. I go to wrap my arms around him.  
“God, you’re gross kitten.”  
“Says the cappie.”  
“You’re literally covered in dirt.”  
“At least I do work. And before you say it, Ancap, stock market watching doesn’t count.” **  
  
  
** ****Concerning Ancommune, I don’t know how we managed to do it and so quickly. Our own little commune with gardens and fields. Progressive quickly gave up their house and garden for the taste of an anarchist lifestyle. Anprim and the rest of the Anprims are thriving, sure it’s a bit too agrarian for them but they live in little archaic huts made from animal hides and planks of wood.  
Whereas everyone else lives in houses around lush communal gardens, snaking vines of tomatoes, wild roses and everything else under the sun. I am 97% sure this is the only source of clean air in all of Ancapistan. We even have solar panels and flowing clean water.  
  
But all together, we till the earth, free of wage slavery and capitalism. Maybe it’s two hours a day, sometimes it’s eight but either way, it’s only the work we need. I don’t have to work but I choose to.  
I am finally free.

**Tankie  
**I step off the train, rucksack in hand. The platform is a bit snowy and completely deserted but it's still welcoming or at least the memories of this place are. There's a small breeze blowing and it bites into my face. I smile fondly.

I trudge through the old town, lit up by the street lights. My keys twirl around my fingers, getting caught every so often since my fingers aren't exactly the slimmest. I missed Magadan. A small town on the Okhotsk sea with a rich history of gulags and mining. Sure it has declined and a lot of people are moving east for better opportunities. But it’s still my town, where I grew up.

I crunch through the snow, first along regular streets lined with stores and then old blockhouses and then onto a single lane road. Rickety houses and picket fences line the road and each house seems to have a large garden which would be otherwise filled with produce if it weren’t covered in snow. The powerlines hang low and I could reach out for them, they’re only 30cm above my head but I don’t because I’m not stupid.  
  
  
I’m only staying here for a few weeks to get away from Centricide. Maybe a few months. But for once the revolution can wait.  
I kick myself for ever considering that the Centricide would work. The Nazi is dead. Anarkiddie hates me but that’s normal. The kulaks have my kid. But on second thoughts, Nazi deserved it and I’d have probably snapped his neck if the others hadn’t gotten to him first. But we could have been great. We could have made the whole world tremble before us but some things never work out.  
At least I'll always have Socialist and Posadist on my side. My comrades and soon we’ll be on the frontlines of the revolution again, leading the vanguard. 

And I don’t think my leg will ever properly heal but it’s not the first time, it’ll always send twinges of pain up my leg. But a healed bullet wound is nothing compared to the grenade shrapnel still embedded in my back though they are harmless or the scars on my face.  
  


I open the garden gate and crunch through the lawn and onto the porch. I knock on the door and it swings open. My mother scoops me into a massive hug. She’s changed a lot since I last saw her, a wizened apple but she’s still the same person.  
“Nikita I missed you!” she yells in Russian.  
“I missed you too mama. I missed you so much.” _  
  
_

**Nazbol  
** He makes me stand there and press the button to keep the elevator open. I keep slamming it while they move the cardboard boxes, taking my usual anger out on the poor button. Sooner or later we manage to get all the boxes into the apartment.  
  
  
Minarchist gives me a hug.  
“Thank you, Naz.”  
“You are alright kulak. You do not get the gulag” but I can’t help but smile.  
“You will quickly regret that when he starts making us eat ‘healthy’ and ‘nutritious’ meals,” grumbles Hoppean, but he’s smiling. It’s an unsettling smile but it’s a smile nonetheless. We’re both just happy that Minarchist is joining us.  
  


**Ancap  
** My eyes are starting to blur, spreadsheets and livestock market graphs spread across my monitor. Usually, I would be asleep with Ancom but it’s been a really, really bad day for the DOW and so I had no choice.  
  
My phone rings and I pick up.  
“Hi who is it?”  
“Hoppean.” his voice is disturbingly normal.  
“I knew you would be awake, Ancap. Well, I've looked at the spreadsheet with the Ancommune profits and I want a part of it. Your boyfriend is very good at business and economics for a commie.” I sigh in response.  
“They’re not a man but thank you. Come around tomorrow and sign the contract. In the meantime, I will pass the word on to Ancom.” and I hang up.  
  


I scribble Ancom a note about the news and leave it by their phone. They’re smiling peacefully in their sleep, like an angel and I wouldn't want to disturb them.  
My heart melts and then I collapse into bed next to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so fucking much to everyone has commented and read my shit. Y'all have no fucking idea how much this means to me and how grateful I am. Like that's the shit that keeps me publishing shit.  
> Thank you so much and it gives me a sliver of confidence in my writing abilities.
> 
> I do have some shit in da works so stuff like homonash and ancom shit, some authunity/auth family shit, and maybe some libcap. We'll see.
> 
> I will take a break from all of this though (so politics). I've always been very political but it's completely consuming me and my hobbies rn so I just gotta disconnect and look after myself. Like I've been tripping mad balls on ideology.  
> So that means also a break from Jreg as well most likely even tho I've been watching him since the JBP vs Zizek debate.
> 
> Most likely I'll have some shit out in a month or two weeks or something. I know I lack any self control tho so it might be sooner and my break will go to shit and poop. I'll be alright though.  
> Feel free to add me on discord if you wanna, Stinky#2622


End file.
